


An Unexpected Education

by Mayniacforqueen



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2018-07-19 04:36:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 85
Words: 394,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7345174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mayniacforqueen/pseuds/Mayniacforqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carrie Martin, a young college girl from California, leaves the warm, sunny weather behind to study history in London. What she doesn't expect, is to meet the charming members of the local rock band, Queen. Suddenly, studying history doesn't seem nearly as exciting as getting to know Queen's drummer and guitarist. Carrie may just end up with a very different education than the one she'd planned on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Just as a side note, some people may have seen this story posted previously on Tumblr. I've been working on this for quite some time, and haven't quite finished it yet. I've decided to drag it back out, dust it off, and finish it up once and for all. If you're familiar with my work, then I'm glad you've found me again.

The weather was freezing. I was freezing. I knew that London in the dead of Winter would be cold, but this was beyond cold. This was a teeth-chattering, bone-chilling, icicles-hanging-from-your-nose kind of cold. I’d only been in England for ten days, and already I found myself wondering what the warning signs were for frostbite, and if I should be concerned.

I stood shivering on The Strand, one of London’s busiest thoroughfares, marveling over the fact that everything around me seemed colorless and grey. Even the very air seemed hard and frozen and stabbed at my lungs every time I took a breath. Considering the fact that I had lived in warm and sunny California my whole life, I really should have expected that moving to London in January would take more than a little adjustment.

I burrowed down deeper into my long woolen pea coat, wrapping the collar more closely around my neck, and buried my hands in the oversized pockets. My turtleneck sweater, plaid wool skirt and sturdy brown leather boots did little to stave off the bitter cold, and I made a mental note of several articles of clothing that I would have to purchase immediately – hats, gloves and scarves being at the top of the list.

I remained on The Strand near the St. Mary-le-Strand Church, gazing up at the massive stone edifice in front of me. Kings College was more daunting than I had anticipated, and I found myself frozen in place, suddenly very nervous about crossing the street to get to my first class. I wasn’t sure why, really. After all, I had attended Stanford for four years and obtained a Bachelor of Arts degree in history, so it wasn’t as if I was fresh out of high school. But then again, this was London, and it was cold, and there were busses and cars spewing smoke all around me, and people rushing about shouting and laughing and making so much noise that I couldn’t even hear myself think. It was a far cry from small town California. No wonder my nerves were in shreds.

Just then a chilly gust of wind suddenly picked up a section of newspaper off the sidewalk, blowing it straight onto the top of my feet, briefly distracting me from my reverie. I looked down and spotted the date: January 10, 1972. The headline momentarily caught my attention, reading “Coal Miners On Strike” in bold print, but I didn’t dwell on it for long. Coal miners were the least of my worries. I had a whole new set of challenges in front of me, from a brand new college campus to try and get used to, to a new set of curriculum to try and learn, and everything in between. Life in a new country meant big changes, and I couldn’t help but worry. After all, what if English colleges were more difficult than American colleges? What if I couldn’t grasp the course material and flunked every class? What if my professors had such thick British accents that I wouldn’t be able to understand a word they said?? 

I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and turned my attention once again toward the hulking building in front of me.

“I can do this,” I mumbled to myself. “Its just college. I’ve already been at Stanford for four years, how different can this really be?”

In my anxiety-ridden state of mind, I didn’t notice that someone was standing next to me, just out of my peripheral line of vision.

“Are you all right?” I heard an unfamiliar voice ask.

I turned to my left to see a girl that appeared to be about my own age looking at me with concern. She had dark skin and a Jimi Hendrix style afro. She wore faded bell-bottomed jeans, a cream colored peasant blouse and platform shoes. Everything about her screamed trendy and cool. Well, much cooler than me in my sturdy boots and wool skirt anyway. 

“I’m fine,” I replied, feeling like I should apologize for being a weirdo that stood on street corners talking to herself. “I’m just working up the nerve to cross the street and get to my first class at King’s College.”

“Ah, you’re American,” she said in a matter of fact tone. Instantly the look of concern faded from her face and was replaced with a faint smile.

“Yes,” I admitted, smiling back, wondering if she thought that _all_ Americans stood on street corners talking to themselves.

“You’ve got nothing to worry about,” she said, giving me a quick pat on the shoulder. “I’ve been attending King’s College for years and I’d be happy to show you around if you like.”

“Would you? That would be great,” I sighed.

I could feel the tension in my body lessen immediately. So far I liked this girl. Granted, I’d only known her for all of about 10 seconds, but I had a good feeling about her. She seemed to be friendly, outgoing and laid back, which was exactly what I needed, since I tended to be shy, nervous and reserved. And God knows that I certainly needed an acquaintance or two in London, considering that I knew no one.

“My name’s Antoinette,” she said, extending her hand. “But everyone calls me Annie.”

“I’m Carrie,” I replied, taking the offered hand.

“So where in America are you from?” she asked, waving me over to the nearby crosswalk.

“California,” I answered. The light signaled for us to cross, and we dashed quickly across The Strand, heading for the school’s entrance.

“Ooh, nice!” she exclaimed. “I’ve always wanted to go to California. Is it as beautiful as everyone says?”

She wasn’t one of those people who still thought the streets of California were paved with gold, was she? If so, she would have a rude awakening if she ever went there, I thought to myself.

“California is beautiful,” I said after a bit of thought. “I grew up in Fresno, which is close to the Sierra Nevada mountain range and places like Yosemite, and the last four years I’ve lived near San Francisco, which is like a completely different world of its own, but equally beautiful.”

“Oh! San Francisco! I’d love to see San Francisco! Haight Ashbury, the Fillmore West…” she sighed. “But there’s got to be some amazing universities there. Why come here?”

“Well, I actually studied history at Stanford for four years, but I came here to work on my masters because King’s College offers a degree in 19th Century Studies,” I explained.

Annie paused as we made our way down the street, and turned to look at me.

“ _I’m_ majoring in 19th Century Studies!” she announced.

“Really?” I asked, knowing that King’s College boasted a number of fields of study that one could major in. “Wow. What are the odds of that?”

Annie laughed and linked an arm through mine and we continued to walk down the street.

“You and I were meant to meet today,” she grinned. “We’re going to be good friends, I just know it.”

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Annie’s prediction ended up being spot on. Not only did we have many of the same classes, but it also turned out that we only lived a few streets away from each other. If I hadn’t believed in fate up to that point, I certainly did now.

We spent many evenings at each other’s flats, eating Chinese take away and laughing and gossiping about things that were going on at school. Besides our classes, there were always cute boys and bitchy girls to discuss, and apparently, as I soon learned from Annie, there were a number of student / teacher affairs going on as well. I found myself hoping that that wasn’t what it took to get ahead at King’s College, because up until that point, all of my professors had been seriously old and not terribly attractive. 

I also learned that Annie was half black and half French, hence the name Antoinette, that she had grown up in the town of Guildford about 30 miles south of London, and that her dream, much like my own, was to eventually work as a historian or archivist in some capacity, perhaps even becoming a curator for a famous museum somewhere. We discovered that we both liked classic 19th century literature by authors like Jane Austen and Charles Dickens, and loved popular rock ‘n’ roll groups like The Beatles, Led Zeppelin and The Who. It was a match made in heaven.

The one area that we did differ from each other had been obvious from day one, and that was our fashion sense, something that Annie was determined to change.

“Let’s see, wool skirt, wool skirt, wool skirt,” Annie said exasperatedly as she rummaged through the clothes hanging in my closet one night. “Did you wear these in California?”

“No, I bought all of that for London,” I shrugged as I sat on my bed Indian style eating ice cream from the carton. “I figured that’s what serious college minded girls would be wearing over here. And I thought they’d be warm.”

“Ugh!” she exclaimed, rolling her eyes skyward. “We have to get you some new clothes.”

“Well, I don’t _always_ wear that stuff, you know. Just at school. And besides, who’s going to see me?” I asked. “I spend all day at school, and the rest of my time either at the library or here at my flat or maybe on the weekends at the grocery store. And believe me when I tell you, I do not care what the Indian guy at the grocery store thinks.”

“Look,” Annie began, as she crossed the room toward my bed, picked up her purse and started rifling through the contents. She pulled out a brightly colored flier and handed it to me. “There’s this concert coming up on the 10th of March at the King’s College hospital campus, and I bought us tickets.”

I looked at her with surprise before shoveling another bite of ice cream into my mouth.

“Its no big deal. I was going to make it an early birthday present for you,” she said.

“Wow, thanks Annie!” I said, looking down at the flier.

“The band’s supposed to be pretty good,” Annie went on, waving away my gratitude. “I’ve got a friend that goes to Imperial College that says they’re fab.”

The flier itself was bright orange and relatively small, only about a quarter of a sheet of paper in size, with somewhat jagged edges that had clearly been hand-cut by someone who wasn’t overly concerned with precision. In large black lettering on the front, it announced that the band Queen would be playing at the Kings College Hospital on the 10th of March at 8:00 pm, ticket price 30p.

“Their name is Queen?” I asked. “Are they guys or girls?”

“Guys,” Annie replied.

“Hmm, okay. Cool,” I nodded.

“Now,” said Annie, snatching the flier back out of my hand. “The reason I’m telling you about this concert ahead of time, is so that we can get you something proper to wear.”

“I suppose you have a few suggestions for me?”

“Two words – Kensington Market.”


	2. Chapter 2

The day of our planned shopping trip dawned cold and grey, with clouds that posed a distinct threat of rain. Annie was so excited to introduce me to Kensington Market, though, her absolute favorite place to shop, that no amount of clouds in the sky could abate her enthusiasm.

She arrived at my flat around ten in the morning, and thankfully, found something in my closet that she felt was suitable for me to go shopping in. She dug one of my pairs of bell-bottoms out, along with one of my turtlenecks, and a denim jacket. She wasn’t thrilled about the turtleneck, but I reminded her that it was February. She topped off my look with a pair of rainbow-striped socks and my ratty old sneakers, and announced that I was presentable. When I attempted to tie back my long blonde hair, she told me emphatically to keep it down.

It took a couple of different bus rides for us to accomplish the four-mile distance to the market, but once we got there, I realized immediately why Annie loved the place. The inside of the three-story building was filled with tiny shops selling a variety of hippie and bohemian style clothing and paraphernalia. It was a complete sensory overload for me the second we walked through the door, with brightly painted walls and floors in every direction, rock music playing in various shops, and the scent of burning incense and cigarette smoke lingering in the air. There was so much to see that it was difficult to take it all in. Annie directed me to one of her favorite shops on the ground floor, however, and that’s where we started, working our way up to the second and third floors as we went.

By the time we got to the top floor, I had managed to buy two mini-skirts, a couple of peasant blouses with angel sleeves, a pair of unbelievably low-waisted hip hugger bell bottoms (which I wasn’t quite sure how I was going to keep from falling down) and a pair of aviator sunglasses. With three floors of stalls, shopping had never felt like such work, and I was beginning to get a bit tired. I asked Annie if she was about ready to go when she told me that she’d seen something in one of the stalls that she wanted to check out before we left. Likewise, I had noticed what appeared to be some antique clothing in another stall that looked interesting, so we decided to go our separate ways and meet up when we were finished.

Each of the stalls in Kensington Market was relatively small, only about 15 feet by 15 feet, yet somehow, when I entered the stall with the antique clothing, I didn’t notice anyone else being in the room. I walked to the first rack of clothes and couldn’t believe my eyes. There were gowns and corsets and petticoats, tailcoats and waistcoats and top hats - all authentic Victorian and Edwardian era clothing. I looked around briefly and realized that they had a hodge-podge of other items too, including old fur coats and modern clothing done up in wild fabrics, but it was the 19th century stuff that drew my attention. I became so engrossed with what the shop had to offer, in fact, that I didn’t even notice when someone popped up from behind a stack of boxes.

“Oh hello, darling, I didn’t see you come in.”

I clutched at my chest, nearly jumping out of my rainbow-striped socks and ratty sneakers.

I turned and met with one of the most unique looking men I’d ever seen. He wore a purple tank top covered with a flowery button-down-the-front shirt and impossibly tight satin pants. He clearly wasn’t of English origin with his long black hair, piercingly dark eyes and sharp features, yet he spoke with a perfect English accent.

“Hi,” I said, trying to regain my composure.

“Can I help you with anything?” he asked.

“I was just admiring your collection of old clothing,” I replied. “Where on earth do you find it all?”

“My partner Roger and I find it here and there,” he answered, dodging a few stray boxes in order to walk across the width of the shop to stand next to me. “Jumble sales, old attics. Sometimes people just bring in boxes of old things and hand them to us.”

He had a large toothy grin, and I couldn’t help feeling like he was sizing me up somehow. It felt a little like I was talking with a human form of the Cheshire Cat.

“Where are you from?” he asked me.

“California,” I said.

“What on earth are you doing in London in the dead of winter?”

“Um, well, I’m here working on my masters degree in 19th Century Studies.”

“Ah, well that explains your interest in our shop then,” he smiled. “Have you been in here before? I’m sure I would have remembered seeing you.”

Was he hitting on me, or did he just really want to make a sale? I wondered.

“I wish I would have known about this place,” I said. “My friend just brought me to Kensington Market for the first time today.”

“Well, feel free to look around,” he said with a flourish of his hand. “My name is Freddie, and I’ll be happy to answer any questions about the clothes. But you really should wait around and talk to Roger. He’s the one who finds most of our clothes and could probably tell you more about them than I can.”

“Oh, okay…” I said as he went back across the room to his boxes. I found myself wondering who exactly this Roger person was, how he knew so much about 19th century clothing, and why he wasn’t in the shop to answer my questions in the first place. For some reason, my overly active imagination pictured him as some middle aged, balding gay man who had a house full of antiques.

Thankfully, it didn’t take long before I found out exactly who Roger was. I was standing towards the back of the shop, examining a gorgeous blue and black plaid gown that appeared to be from about the 1860s, when I heard this smoky, gravelly voice say, “I’m back with the tea Fred, and I only managed to spill half of yours down the front of me.”

I looked up to see a young man, close to my own age, with long shaggy blonde hair walk into the shop with two steaming paper cups of tea. There was definitely nothing fat or bald or middle-aged about him. I didn’t get a good look at his face at first, but his body was certainly impressive. He was around 5’10” with a denim shirt unbuttoned about half way down, tight bell-bottomed jeans hugging his long slim legs, and aviator sunglasses sliding down his nose. He set the cups on the counter near their cash register, took off his sunglasses, sliding them into his shirt pocket, and reached down to wipe at the tea he’d spilled on the front of his pants.

“How do you always manage to spill _my_ tea and not _yours_?” Freddie asked Roger.

“How about next time _you_ go get the tea, and I’ll hold down the shop?” Roger replied, as he reached into his shirt pocket, pulling out a pack of Marlboro cigarettes.

“Roger, you really shouldn’t smoke in front of the customers, dear,” Freddie quietly admonished.

Roger had a cigarette halfway to his lips, when he stopped and looked directly at me, not realizing until that moment that I was even in the shop.

I found myself unable to stop staring at him - he was absolutely gorgeous. He looked every bit the teenage heartthrob with his shaggy blond hair, pouty mouth, and the biggest most beautiful blue eyes I’d ever seen.

It took me several seconds before I realized that Freddie was saying something, and leading Roger by the arm over to where I was standing. I chastised myself mentally for acting like besotted 12 year-old, and looked instead at Freddie, who had that Cheshire Cat grin planted firmly on his face once again.

“Roger, this young lady…I’m sorry, what did you say your name was?” Freddie asked me.

“Um, I don’t think I said, but its Carrie.”

“Carrie is studying the 19th century, and had some questions about our clothes, and of course, I told her you were the expert,” Freddie smiled, patting Roger on the back.

“Oh, um, Freddie gives me too much credit, I’m afraid,” Roger said, scowling at his business partner. “I just find a lot of the clothes. He’s the one with the background in fashion.”

“Oh, you’re far too humble, dear,” Freddie said, squeezing Roger’s shoulder. “I’ll just leave you two to it then, shall I?”

Freddie headed back to his boxes, and Roger just looked down at me with a shy and slightly embarrassed smile. I could have turned into a puddle right on the spot.

“I’m really not the expert that he claims,” Roger told me, “but I’m happy to answer any questions I can.”

“I’m just impressed with the collection you guys have here. I don’t know how you find so many amazing articles of historic clothing.”

“Freddie and I find them all over the place. Some people are genuinely happy to be rid of the stuff and just give it to us to make space in their attics,” Roger explained. “That dress you were looking at there I just found in a friend’s attic not more than four or five days ago.”

“Incredible,” I said. “I’ve only ever seen clothing like this in museums back home.”

“Where are you from?” Roger asked.

“She’s from California,” Freddie chimed in from across the room.

Roger made a face at Freddie over his shoulder then turned back to me.

“How long have you been here?” he asked me, casually leaning against the clothing rack.

“Just a little over a month,” I replied. “I’m working on my masters degree in 19th Century Studies at Kings College.”

“Oh, we’re going to be playing a gig at King’s College next month, right Fred?” Roger called over his shoulder.

“Yes, at the King’s College Hospital,” Freddie said.

“A gig?” I asked, images of the bright orange flier from Annie’s purse popping into my head. “I’m supposed to be going to a concert at the King’s College Hospital next month. You’re not part of the band Queen, are you?”

“Our fame precedes us!” Roger laughed. “I’m afraid you found us at our day job.”

His eyes lit up when he laughed, I noticed, and a slight dimple formed in his left cheek. My brain went dead, and I realized that I was staring again.

“Well, I’m, um, I’m certainly glad I did, or I would have never found these lovely clothes,” I spluttered. “How much for the plaid gown?”

“Freddie, how much for the plaid gown?” Roger called out.

“I’ll tell you what. I have a bit of a proposition for you darling,” Freddie said to me as he hastened back over to where Roger and I were standing. “Kensington Market is going to be putting on a fashion show in a couple of weeks to help promote the stalls, and we’re going to showcase our antique clothes. The problem we’re having is that we can’t seem to find many ladies small enough to wear some of these old frocks.”

Freddie ran an appraising glance from my head down to my feet and back up again, then turned to Roger and asked, “What do you think Rog? Is she petite enough?”

Roger followed Freddie’s lead and let his eyes roam over my body, causing me to turn at least three shades of red.

“I think so,” Roger said in a very business-like tone, completely unaware of the acrobatics he was causing my stomach to perform. “How tall are you?”

I cleared my throat, and managed to choke out “5’3”.”

“Sounds about right,” Roger shrugged, turning to Freddie, “but you’re the expert.”

“I think she’d be perfect,” Freddie agreed. “She even looks the part with her fair complexion.” He paused for a moment and smiled. “And she blushes so nicely.”

Roger studied my face more closely, and grinned as it dawned on him the effect that the two of them were having on me. When had my shopping excursion turned into me becoming the merchandise? And where the hell was Annie?

“What do you say?” Freddie asked me. “The plaid dress in exchange for helping us out?”

It took me a second to find my voice, and when I did, it sounded hoarse to my ears. I don’t even remember what my response was, except that it involved school and time constraints because of homework. But Freddie, being the charismatic creature that he was, however, had me convinced in a very short amount of time that this was something I needed to do.

“Let me write down all the information for you,” he gushed as he waltzed over to the counter to find a pen and paper.

Just at that moment, Annie finally found me.

“There you are!” she exclaimed. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

“Sorry, I’ve been talking with Freddie and Roger here about their Victorian clothing. They want me to be in a fashion show of theirs. Oh, and did I mention that they’re members of the band you’re taking me to see next month?”

Everything came rushing out of my mouth in one breath.

“No way! You lot are from Queen?” Apparently all she’d heard was the last part of what I’d said.

“Afraid so,” Roger smiled.

“Here you are darling,” Freddie said to me, handing me a scrap of paper covered in handwritten scrawl. He’d written down the date, time and place where I needed to meet them in order to get ready for the fashion show.

“Oh, and did I mention that Roger is going to be one of our models as well? We’re dressing him up as a Victorian dandy,” Freddie added as an afterthought.

Roger straightened a little and looked at me proudly, grinning and nodding his head vigorously. I tried to hold back my laughter, but couldn’t. If these guys had this much personality in everyday life, I couldn’t wait to see what their concert was going to be like.

“I’ll be there,” I told Freddie, acknowledging the paper he’d given me.

“Fabulous! Let me just wrap that dress up for you then,” Freddie said, reaching in front of me to pluck the blue and black plaid dress off the rack.

I was watching Freddie with curiosity as he pulled a flurry of tissue paper out from under his counter, gently rolling the dress up inside, when Annie interrupted my thoughts with, “Oh, I almost forgot! I bought something for you.”

She proceeded to pull a halter-top with a plunging neckline out of a paper bag, and held it up for everyone to see.

“Uh…” I said, completely at a loss for words. “You do know that this is February, right?”

“Yes, but spring is coming,” she said slowly, as though she were talking to the village idiot.

“I like it,” Roger said with a crooked grin, looking from me to the shirt and back to me again.

There went my stomach again. I needed to get out of Freddie and Roger’s shop before they had me disconcerted to the point of forgetting my own name.

“Here you are darling,” Freddie announced, thrusting a large paper bag toward me as he hurried across the room once again. “Now, you won’t forget the fashion show, right?”

“I won’t. I promise,” I replied, Freddie nodding his head in approval. I turned to Annie and asked, “Are you ready to go?”

“Ready when you are,” she replied.

“Roger, Freddie, lovely to meet you, and I’ll see you on…” I looked down at the piece of paper Freddie had given me, “the 26th.”

We all said our goodbyes, and I ushered Annie out the door. Behind us in the stall, I could hear Freddie hurriedly whispering something to Roger, and within seconds, Roger was running out into the passageway after us.

“Carrie!” he called.

Oh God, he said my name. It was the first time he’d said my name.

“Yes?” I said turning around, trying to keep myself composed.

“I was just wondering if I could get your phone number. You know, in case Freddie and I need to call you about the fashion show or something.”

“Oh! Yeah, sure,” I said. I began to fumble with my armload of bags, trying to get to my purse, which I knew had a pen in it somewhere.

“Here,” Annie said, digging a small tablet and pen out of her purse.

I mumbled a quick thanks to Annie, then paused for a moment, pen poised over the tablet, and realized that I couldn’t remember my phone number. Good God all mighty, I was completely losing my mind! Just because I was standing next to a hot, long haired, denim clad guy with big blue eyes, who smelled faintly of cigarettes and spilled tea and…

“Ahem!” Annie cleared her throat. “Your number is 43…”

“I know!” I interrupted. “I’ve only had it for a month you know.”

I could tell by the grin on Roger’s face that he wasn’t buying any of it. Thankfully I remembered the rest of my phone number, wrote it down, and handed the sheet of paper to him.

“Thanks,” he smiled. “I’ll see you soon!”

I told him good-bye, and just like that, he was back in the stall again, leaving me to wonder what he meant by “soon”. Did he mean fashion show kind of soon, or sooner than that kind of soon?

“What on earth happened while I was gone?” Annie demanded, snapping me out of my train of thought.

I slipped my arm through Annie’s and started walking toward the staircase that led down to the exit. I released my breath, which I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding, and said, “Annie, do you believe in love at first sight?”


	3. Chapter 3

The next few days passed by without much excitement. Annie and I spent most of our time in class or studying in the college library, and although I tried to put the whole episode at Kensington Market out of my head, I suddenly found it much harder to concentrate on my studies. Who cared about long since dead 19th century men when there were gorgeous, living, breathing, shaggy haired men within a few miles from my flat? Make that one gorgeous shaggy _blonde_ haired man. Suffice it to say, it had taken all of my will power _not_ to pay another visit to Kensington Market.

It was Friday evening, just a few days after I’d met Roger and Freddie, and it looked like it was going to be another boring night with Chinese take out and open textbooks. Annie told me that she had a family engagement to attend that night, so that left me at home alone holding a won ton in one hand, and a TV remote in the other. Not that there was much on TV, of course. BBC 1 – nothing. BBC 2 – nothing. ITV – nothing. Well, so much for that, I thought.

I was just about to break out the ice cream to help drown my sorrows when the phone rang. I automatically looked at the clock and saw that it was a few minutes past 6:00 pm, which left little doubt as to who was calling. It was about 10:00 am back home in California, which meant that my mom had just finished breakfast and decided to call and see how I was doing. I stuffed the last of my won ton into my mouth, and headed for the phone.

“Hello?” I said, picking up the receiver.

“Carrie?”

It wasn’t my mom. In fact… No, I thought, it couldn’t be…

“Yes?” I answered.

“It’s Roger Taylor, from Kensington Market.”

_Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God_! My brain screamed. I nearly choked on my won ton, and quickly swallowed the rest down. After the initial shock, it occurred to me that he said his last name was Taylor. I hadn’t even known that.

“Oh, hi Roger!” 

Good Lord, I thought, I had no idea my voice could go that high.

“How’ve you been?” he asked.

“Good, you?”

“Good, can’t complain. I hope I’m not calling at a bad time.”

I looked around at the sad, half-eaten array of Chinese take-out containers littering my coffee table, and said, “No, not at all.”

“Okay, well, I don’t know if you’re busy or not tonight, but Freddie was going to have a few people over at his place to talk about the fashion show, and I was wondering if you wanted to come?”

_Do not sound too excited_! I screamed at myself mentally.

“Sure, I love to!” I exclaimed. So much for sounding restrained.

“Great!” he said. I swore I could hear him smiling over the phone. “I actually live pretty close to Freddie, but I’d be happy to come by and give you a lift if you don’t.”

“Oh, where does Freddie live?” I asked, as if I would have any idea whatsoever where he was talking about once he told me.

“Kensington,” he replied.

“Okay, well, I’m on Henrietta Street, do you know where that’s at?”

“Yeah, you’re a few miles from Freddie’s, so how about I come by and get you. Say around 7:00?”

I told him that would be fine, gave him my address, hung up the phone, and began to panic. I looked around my flat at my piles of books, dirty dishes and take out containers, and prayed that I would have time to pick a few things up. Then another wave of panic hit as it occurred to me that I had no idea what to wear! I instantly raced to my closet. I dug out my favorite pair of bell-bottomed jeans, and went to grab for one of my new angel sleeved peasant blouses, when I saw the halter-top that Annie bought me hanging there. It was as if golden beams of light from heaven were shining down upon it.

_It’s February, and you’ll freeze to death_ , the angel sitting on my left shoulder reminded me. _Yes, but you’ll look good_ , the devil on my right shoulder said. _You’ll look like a wanton slut_ , the angel argued. _But Roger said he liked the shirt, remember?_ the devil shot back.

The devil won that round. But just to make the angel feel a little better, I agreed to wear my heaviest jacket and scarf over the top.

I quickly got dressed, brushed my hair and teeth, and fixed my make-up. Once I felt that I was presentable, I set about cleaning up the flat. I threw the take out containers in the trash and quickly washed the dirty dishes. I was just about to straighten up my piles of books, when I heard a knock at the door. My eyes darted to the clock, and I realized that it was later than I thought, already five minutes until 7:00. The books would just have to stay.

I opened the door, and there was my golden blonde Adonis smiling down at me. He looked amazing. He was wearing a pair of worn and patched bell-bottomed jeans, a black tank top and a black leather jacket. He held a lit cigarette in his right hand, and regardless of what some people might say about smoking being a bad habit, it seemed to suit Roger in my opinion, and made him that much sexier.

“Hi,” I said, holding onto the door for dear life, praying my knees wouldn’t buckle underneath me.

“Hi,” he replied. His eyes strayed from mine momentarily, as he glanced down at what I was wearing and did a slight double take.

“You’re, uh, wearing the shirt your friend bought you,” he grinned, his eyes pausing at the low neckline. “What, er, what was her name again?”

“Annie,” I supplied, silently congratulating myself on my choice of clothing. “Come inside.”

“Right, thanks. Do you mind if I?” he asked, nodding toward his cigarette.

“No, not at all,” I said. “There’s an ashtray on the coffee table, in fact, if you need it.”

Apparently he did, because he walked over immediately to make use of it. He started looking around my living room then, taking in my Beatles posters, my record collection and the various knick-knacks and framed photos that graced my bookshelves. Unfortunately, his eyes eventually landed on the piles of books littering my coffee table and couch.

“I take it you’re a reader,” he smiled, picking up a copy of _Sense and Sensibility_. Of course he _would_ have to notice the one thing I didn’t have time to clean up! “Lots of Jane Austen,” he continued on. “You must be a fan.”

“I am! In fact, part of the reason that I chose this flat was because Jane Austen stayed with her brother on this very street in the early 1800s.”

Why did I say that? I thought to myself as soon as the words left my mouth. Good God, _why did I say that_? Now he was going to think that I was some nerdy girl that never took her nose out of a book!

“Really?” he asked, doing his best to sound interested. “I’ve lived in London for years, and I had no idea. It is a lovely street though. I can see why she’d want to stay here. Do you think she spent a lot of time at the coffee shop downstairs?”

I was just about to tell him that I seriously doubted the place even existed in her time, when I realized he was teasing and looking at me with a crooked grin on his face.

“Hmm, I’m not sure how much of a coffee drinker Jane Austen was,” I grinned back. I could have told him all about how Jane Austen was responsible for the key to the tea caddy at her cottage in Chawton over 150 years ago, but thankfully I thought better of it. He didn’t need to know the depths of my geekdom just yet.

Roger set the book back down, and I was about to ask if he was ready to go, but he seemed to be more interested in the contents of my flat than getting to Freddie’s in a timely manner. He was genuinely amazed that I had a TV with a remote control, for instance, and asked if he could try it out.

I just laughed and said, “Sure. The button on the left makes the channel go down, the next button is the power button, the one after that controls the volume, and the button on the far right makes the channel go up.”

Roger just smiled and nodded, and happily began flipping through channels. There seemed to be a definite childlike quality about him that I found absolutely irresistible. I couldn’t help but smile as I watched him.

“You know, I’d be happy to show you around my flat before we go,” I said at last, “but there’s really not much to see.”

“I’d be happy to see anything you want to show me,” he said as he set the remote down.

“Okay,” I smiled. “Well, this is the living room, as you might have guessed. And over there is my very tiny kitchen,” I said gesturing to a doorway on my left, “and over here,” I announced, leading Roger to yet another doorway, “is my bedroom and bathroom.”

Damn. It occurred to me too late that I hadn’t made up my bed. Of course, it shouldn’t have occurred to me considering that I never made my bed, but suddenly it seemed like a gigantic billboard in the room announcing that a slob lived there.

“It’s very nice,” Roger nodded, glancing around my bedroom. “Much nicer than my place.”

“Oh, I seriously doubt that,” I said.

“No, believe me, it is. I just live in a small bed sit in Kensington,” he said almost apologetically.

I wasn’t entirely sure what a bed sit was exactly, but since it didn’t seem like something he was overly happy about living in, I thought it best not to ask too many questions.

As the two of us stood in the doorway of my bedroom, it occurred to me how close in proximity we were to one another. I couldn’t help but study his face as he continued to look around my room with a sincere curiosity. He had the longest eyelashes I’d ever seen on a guy, and he had the cutest little slightly turned up nose. Then I found my thoughts drifting to his pouty lips, and how soft and inviting they looked, and how much I’d like to kiss them…

I realized too late that Roger was looking at me as the corners of his perfect mouth curled up into a smile. My eyes darted back up to his, and his face was alight with genuine amusement.

“I’m just curious,” he began, his eyes sparkling mischievously, “do you always hang your lingerie over your bathroom door?”

My eyes flew to the spot he was referring to, and I felt my heart plummet to the pit of my stomach. I’d completely forgotten that I’d hung my bras up to dry over the bathroom door! How on earth could I have forgotten such a thing?! I was completely and utterly mortified, and turned red to the point that I could literally feel my ears burning. I was so used to living as a single girl, with guys never even entering my domain that my bras hadn’t registered. The bed being unmade registered, of course, but somehow the bras didn’t! Clearly I needed to sort out my priorities, and find another place to hang clothing!

“The pink one in particular is quite nice,” Roger grinned, obviously enjoying every minute of my excruciating embarrassment.

I cleared my throat and said, “So, we should probably get going…”

“Yes, we probably should,” Roger agreed. “We don’t want to keep Freddie waiting.”

I steered Roger away from my bedroom door as quickly as I could, making a mental note to transform my flat into a place fit for male company as soon as humanly possible.


	4. Chapter 4

I grabbed my coat and scarf, locked my front door and followed Roger downstairs to his waiting car, which turned out to be a red mid-60s Triumph Spitfire that looked like it needed a bit of work, but was still cute just the same. He opened the passenger side door for me, and I was grateful for the warmth that the inside of his car afforded since it was freezing cold outside. Perhaps wearing a halter-top in February hadn’t been such a hot idea after all.

As I looked around the inside of his car, I found myself not feeling quite so bad about the state of my flat. It wasn’t that his car was necessarily messy, there was just a mixture of bits and pieces strewn casually around that made the car undeniably Roger’s. Drumsticks stuck behind the seats, an empty crumpled pack of Marlboros, and cigarette butts hanging precariously out of the ashtray were just a few of the things that caught my eye. I realized for the first time that he must be Queen’s drummer, and we spent the entire 10-minute ride discussing the band and his role within it.

We parked as close to Freddie’s flat as we could, but still had to walk a short way. I could feel the warmth radiating from Roger’s body even through both of our layers of clothing as we walked side by side up the street. I’d never been so physically aware of someone else in my life.

Freddie’s flat had a similar set up to mine, I realized, as we went through a door on the ground floor, up a flight of steps, and eventually ended up at a front door two stories up. Freddie answered the door almost as soon as Roger knocked, greeting us with his usual toothy grin.

“Come in! Come in!” he beckoned. “Brian and John are already here, along with Veronica and Sally, and Mary of course.”

Walking into Freddie’s flat was an instant sensory overload. Bright colors popped out at every angle throughout his living room. A large bouquet of purple ostrich plumes sat on a bookshelf, while directly below, a red, white and blue feathery plant sort of thing in a large vase tried to outshine them. Bowls of brightly colored wax fruit graced the tabletops, and pillows of every shape, size and color were tossed casually around the floor. Red seemed to be the dominant theme, however, with mismatched crimson velvet curtains hanging haphazardly over the one and only window the room had to offer, as a red floor lamp with beaded fringe stood watching over the proceedings in a nearby corner. It was as if a sultan and a Victorian madam had combined their decorating tastes, and this was what they came up with.

In addition to the flamboyant décor, the smell of scented candles, cigarettes and stale beer assailed my olfactory senses. I could hear the low drone of female voices chattering from somewhere within the flat, and what I initially thought was some sort of stereo or radio playing ended up being a tall lanky guy with curly dark hair sitting in a red chair in the corner, playing guitar. I was immediately intrigued, not to mention seriously impressed, when I realized that he was playing a perfect rendition of _Mother Nature’s Son_ that could have easily rivaled The Beatles.

Roger walked further into the room, took off his jacket and laid it on the back of a mustard yellow couch, so I followed suit and laid my jacket and scarf right next to his. The sound of the guitar suddenly stopped, and I glanced over at the guy in the chair to find that he was staring at me. I hadn’t paid much attention to what he really looked like at first, since he had been so engrossed in playing, but now that I was able to take a better look, I realized what a kind face he had, particularly his bright hazel eyes. He wasn’t strikingly handsome the way that Roger was, in fact my first thought was that he looked very British with his small thin-lipped mouth and long thin nose, but still, there was definitely something about him.

“All right, Rog?” he asked. 

His sweet, warm voice matched his looks perfectly, I decided.

“Hey Brian,” Roger answered. It took him a second, but then he remembered to make the introductions. “Oh, uh, Carrie this is Brian, Brian this is Carrie.”

“Nice to meet you,” Brian said standing up and offering me his hand. He was taller than I thought, towering nearly a foot over my 5’3” frame.

“Nice to meet you too,” I said walking across the short space between us to take his hand. His grip was soft, but warm, and he had some of the longest fingers I’d ever seen.

“Where’s John?” Roger asked Freddie  
.  
“I’m here,” said a quiet voice to our right. It belonged to a man with long brown hair waving a bottle of beer at us from the tiny kitchenette off to the side of Freddie’s living room.

“I’ll take one of those,” Roger said. “Got any more beer Fred?”

“In the fridge,” Freddie replied. “Oh, and Roger, here is your ashtray. Make sure you actually use it this time. I was hoovering ashes out of the carpet for days after the last time you were here.”

“You mean Mary was hoovering ashes out of the carpet,” Roger corrected.

“Whatever,” Freddie said, waving Roger’s comment aside. “The point is you’re messy, so here.”

Freddie made an exaggerated gesture of setting a glass ashtray on the small side table next to the couch, as if it were a holy relic to be revered.

“Yeah, all right, all right,” Roger said dismissively. “Carrie, care for a beer?”

“Um, sure,” I said. I wasn’t really much of a beer drinker, but since Roger offered so sweetly, how could I possibly refuse?

“Have a seat, dear,” Freddie told me, motioning toward the couch.

“So where is everybody?” I heard Roger ask as he and Freddie made their way into the kitchen. “Are there just a few of us tonight?”

“Yes, Mary didn’t want to completely overwhelm poor Brian just yet,” Freddie replied.

The rest of their conversation was lost on me as they moved further into the kitchen. The words “poor Brian” stood out though, and I found myself wondering what was wrong with the quiet guitarist in the corner, as I took a seat in the middle of the couch and looked over at him. He seemed to be watching me as well, and we each took turns smiling awkwardly at each other, looking for something to say.

“So,” Brian began quietly, “how do you know Roger?”

“I actually just met Roger and Freddie a few days ago at their stall in Kensington Market,” I replied.

“Oh,” Brian drawled, looking like a light bulb had just gone off in his head. “You’re the American girl.”

Apparently my fame had preceded me. He suddenly looked at me as though he knew far more about me than I knew about him, and I found myself wondering what exactly had been said about me amongst these guys in my absence.

“Yes, I’m the American girl,” I nodded and smiled.

“Roger told me that you’re attending King’s College.”

“Yes,” I said. “I’m working on my masters degree in 19th century studies.”

“Ah, a history buff,” said Brian, leaning forward in his chair. “Have you always had an interest in that time period?”

“I have,” I admitted. “I love Jane Austen and the Regency era in particular, but I’m fascinated with all aspects of the 19th century, especially where they’re related to British history and culture.”

“I take it you’re a bit of an Anglophile?” Brian asked with a slight grin.

“Guilty as charged,” I laughed. I was amazed at how comfortable I felt talking with Brian. I didn’t feel the least bit nervous or shy for once. It was like I’d known him for years. Something about his calm and quiet demeanor seemed to put me instantly at ease.

“I have to admit I’ve always been a little enamored with America myself,” admitted Brian. “I’ve always wanted to visit the Air and Space Museum in Washington D.C. amongst other things.”

“I wouldn’t mind visiting there myself,” I said. “I’ve never been to D.C. Are you interested in space exploration?”

“Just sort of space in general,” Brian answered. “I have a degree in astrophysics.”

“Oh wow! You’re a smart guy then!” I laughed.

“Well, not really,” he said very modestly. “It’s just a different field of study from yours, that’s all.”

Suddenly we heard Roger, John and Freddie laughing hysterically over something as they walked back out of the kitchen. Roger came sauntering toward me with a beer in each hand and a smile that brightened the whole room. Brian, on the other hand, instantly became distant and quiet and slouched against the back of the chair once more, plucking quietly at the strings of his guitar.

Roger flopped himself down on the couch next to me and handed me my beer. A shiver ran down my spine as his thigh pressed intimately against mine.

“Are you cold?” he asked me.

“No, I’m fine,” I said quickly.

Damn it, I thought, why did he have to make me so nervous?

“She fucking well should be cold as little as she has on,” Freddie teased, flashing me that Cheshire Cat grin of his. He ran an appraising look over me and asked, “Is that the scrap of fabric your friend bought you at the market the other day?”

“Um, yes, it is,” I replied, as I felt a blush start to develop around my ears and work it’s way out to my cheeks. This was what I got for trying to be sexy, I thought.

“Lord, it’s February in London, darling. You’ll catch your death wearing something like that,” Freddie said with a salacious smile, taking a sip from the wine glass that was now dangling from his hand.

I looked over at Roger, who had just finished lighting up a cigarette, and he smiled at me reassuringly as he reached for my hand and squeezed it. His hand felt warm and wonderful, if perhaps a little calloused, which I assumed was one of the perils of being a drummer. Regardless, just feeling his skin against mine made my heart skip a beat.

Freddie then looked over at Brian, who was in turn looking across the room at me.

“And how are you doing, dear?” Freddie asked. “Another beer perhaps?”

“Yeah, sure, if it’s no trouble,” Brian replied quietly.

“Of course not darling,” Freddie assured him. He then looked over his shoulder and called out, “Mary! Can you get Brian another beer, dear?”

A girl that I hadn’t met before suddenly popped out of a room that was adjacent to the living room. She had long blonde hair, large lamp-like eyes and thin penciled in eyebrows, making her look a bit like and old time silent film star in my estimation.

“For God’s sake, Fred,” Brian said, shaking his head. “I could have gotten up and got it myself.”

“Nonsense,” Freddie said, as he planted himself down on the couch on the other side of me. He looked at Mary then and said, “Darling we do have guests, you know. Can’t you show Veronica and Sally your latest acquisitions from Biba another time?”

“We were just about to come out anyway,” Mary assured him, giving him a withering look. “Still, it wouldn’t kill you to get your friend a beer you know.”

Freddie flashed her a syrupy sweet smile as he called out “I love you darling!” at her retreating form.

“Yeah, yeah…” she mumbled, wandering off into the kitchen.

“So,” Freddie said, turning his attention toward me. “What have you been up to, dear, since the last time I saw you?”

“Um, just going to school really,” I answered.

Two more girls wandered out of what I assumed must be Freddie’s bedroom, and the two of them, along with John, each pulled up a pillow on the floor and sat down.

“Well that doesn’t sound very exciting,” Freddie said as though he had a bad taste in his mouth. “What do you do for fun?”

Suddenly all eyes seemed to be on me, and I became very conscious of every word that was leaving my mouth.

“Well, um…” I began, thinking hard about what I actually _did_ do for fun. “My friend Annie comes over once in a while, or I’ll go over to her place, and we eat Chinese food and ice cream, and maybe play some records or something.”

Freddie looked at me completely aghast.

“That’s it?” he asked. “You don’t go out at all?”

“Well, I mean, I _have_ only been in London for a little over a month,” I said slightly apologetically. “And I really don’t know that many people here yet.”

“Well how on earth do you expect to meet people if you’re sitting in your flat every night?” Freddie retorted.

Okay, so he had a point. It had never really occurred to me until that moment what a boring life I led. 

Mary came in then with Brian’s beer and a bowl of chips for everyone to share, and pulled up a pillow on the floor near one of the other girls so that she too could listen to the stories of what an exceptionally dull human being I was.

“So what kinds of things did you do back in California?” Freddie asked. “Did you leave a string of broken hearted men back in the States?”

“Hardly!” I snorted. It occurred to me after I said it that perhaps I shouldn’t have been quite so emphatic about the lack of men in my life. Things seemed to be going from bad to worse.

“Don’t tell me that you didn’t go out in California either?” Freddie cried.

“Well, sometimes I did,” I answered, trying salvage what was left of my dignity. “You know, my friend Jennifer and I would go to concerts occasionally, or go to the movies, or go shopping.”

“Good Lord!” Freddie laughed. “You’re a very innocent little thing, aren’t you? When was the last time you had a boyfriend for God’s sake?”

“Bloody hell, Fred. Will you stop interrogating the poor girl?” Brian chimed in.

“I’m merely concerned, that’s all!” Freddie said innocently. He turned right back to me and said, “Seriously, darling, when was the last time you had a boyfriend?”

“Well, I mean, I’ve dated a few guys here and there, but I haven’t really had a boyfriend since I was sixteen,” I responded.

“Sixteen?!” Freddie cried.

“How old are you?” Roger asked me, suddenly looking a little concerned.

“21,” I answered.

“My God! You haven’t had a boyfriend for five years?!” Freddie exclaimed. “When was the last time you had sex for God’s sake?”

“Fred, really…” Brian said, shaking his head.

“Yeah, Fred, come on…” Roger scowled.

Everyone else just continued to look on with a slightly bemused interest.

“Oh please! You know you’re all thinking it! I’m the only one with big enough balls to ask it!” Freddie railed. He looked to me again and continued on, saying, “Come on, darling, really, when was the last time you had sex?”

The room had gone quiet enough to hear a pin drop, and I assumed that everyone was seriously expecting me to answer the question.

I took a long swig of beer to steel my nerves, and quietly said, “I, um… I haven’t actually _had_ sex yet.”

Every mouth on nearly every person in the room was hanging open as they all stared at me disbelievingly. You would have thought that I’d sprouted a second head or something.

“You haven’t had sex?” Freddie asked me incredulously. “How is that even possible, darling? You’re absolutely gorgeous!”

“Well, as I’ve told you, I guess I don’t get out enough,” I shrugged. “Besides that, girls that are far prettier than me are like a dime a dozen in California. I’m hardly unique.”

“Sweet, innocent, and far too humble,” Freddie said, shaking his head. “We must put a stop to all of this nonsense now. When was the last time you were at least good and snogged?”

“Snogged?” I questioned. Then it registered in my brain what he meant. “Oh! You mean kissed! Um… Let me think…”

“Oh for God’s sake…” Freddie said exasperatedly. “Roger, finish your beer and give me your bottle. We’re going to play spin the bottle.”

“Oh Lord, Freddie, really?” Brian griped. “What are we, twelve?”

“Oh come on, darling, it’s perfect,” Freddie said, waving away Brian’s concern. “You need cheering up, Carrie needs to be kissed, it’s a win-win for everyone. And I’m sure Roger doesn’t mind, do you Rog?”

Roger had been in the process of tossing back the rest of his beer while Freddie was talking, and suddenly looked at his friend as he stifled a beer burp, and said, “I, um, I mean…”

“There, it’s settled!” Freddie announced. “But first we need to give Carrie a proper introduction to everyone…”

I suddenly felt as though I was being swept out to sea on a very strong tide. Tidal wave Freddie had just hit, and everyone seemed to be helpless in its powers.

“You know Brian and John now,” Freddie began, pointing each guy out to me in turn, “and this is John’s girlfriend, Veronica, Veronica’s friend Sally, and my lovely better half, Mary.”

Freddie got up from the couch and started shifting pillows around into a circle on the floor.

“Come on everyone, find a spot,” Freddie instructed, motioning to the pillows.

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” Roger leaned over and whispered in my ear. “Freddie does get a bit carried away at times.”

I really wasn’t quite sure what I should do. I didn’t want to seem like I was raining on everyone’s parade by saying no, yet at the same time, I didn’t really want my first kiss with Roger to be in a room filled with people that I barely knew.

Before I had a chance to voice my opinion, Brian stood up and said, “You lot have fun playing your little game, but I’m out.”

He stepped around everyone and over the mass quantity of pillows littering the floor, and headed into the kitchen.

“Come on!” Freddie called out. “We’re meant to be cheering you up tonight! A little snogging will get your mind off of things!”

“No thanks,” Brian called back from the kitchen.

Freddie, undeterred, followed Brian into the kitchen, and began talking so loudly that everyone in the living room could hear every word that was being said.

“What is your problem tonight?” Freddie demanded of Brian.

“I think you know what my problem is tonight,” Brian shot back, trying to keep his voice down.

“So lighten up and have a bit of fun! You’ll feel better,” Freddie advised.

“You don’t get it at all, do you? Have you even stopped to consider what you’re doing, trying to get all of us to play such a ridiculous game?” Brian asked.

“What are you talking about? We do stupid shit like this all the time,” Freddie contended.

“Yes, but not with a self-confessed virgin who barely knows us, and happened to come here with Roger tonight. How do you think either of them will feel if you or I were to land on her? Has Roger even kissed her yet? I doubt this is quite the romantic setting that he envisioned,” Brian argued.

“You’re talking about ‘love ‘em and leave ‘em’ Roger you know,” Freddie reminded him. “Romantic settings are usually the sort of thing you’re more concerned with, not him. Unless…”

The whole room seemed to have gone completely still, everyone listening intently to what was being said. Roger, I noticed, had a scowl etched deeply into his forehead.

“Wait, you’ve been staring at her all night…” Freddie said with a dawning awareness. “Don’t tell me _you_ fancy her!”

“Keep your voice down!” Brian admonished. “And of course I don’t fancy her, I just met her. I’m simply trying to make sure that she’s not uncomfortable. Which is more than I can say for you.”

“She’s fine,” Freddie countered. “The poor thing sounds as though she lives like a hermit for fuck’s sake! She needs some social interaction with other people!”

“God, Freddie, you can’t even hear how fucking ridiculous you sound,” Brian griped. “If that’s how she wants to live her life, then she doesn’t need someone like you trying to change her!”

“Lord, you do fancy her...” Freddie said again.

“I’m not discussing this any further with you. You lot have fun with the rest of your evening, but I’m going.”

With that, Brian strode into the living room, grabbed up his coat, and stormed out Freddie’s front door without saying goodbye to a single soul. The room remained completely still and silent as we listened to the sound of Brian’s boots tromping all the way down the staircase.

I felt terrible, like I had done something to cause Freddie and Brian to fall out with each other. I knew I hadn’t really, but after listening to some of the things that were said, I just felt, weird. Like I had intruded on a private matter that I wasn’t meant to be part of. It certainly wasn’t the way that I’d thought the evening would turn out.

Roger cleared his throat loudly then and touched my arm to get my attention. “Listen, Holland Park isn’t very far from here. Fancy a walk?”


	5. Chapter 5

Roger and I walked in silence for several minutes, unsure of how to broach the subject of what had happened back at Freddie’s flat. To be honest, I wasn’t completely sure what exactly _had_ happened. One minute I was drinking a beer with Roger, and the next minute, Freddie was chasing Brian down into the kitchen and accusing him of fancying me! The whole thing was so bizarre! And since I barely knew any of them, I had no idea whether this was typical behavior or not. I couldn’t help but wonder if Roger and his friends had disagreements like this often, and if there was any truth to the things that Freddie and Brian had been arguing about. My only real concern was that Freddie seemed to be referring to Roger as a bit of a womanizer. As gorgeous as he was, there was no doubt that Roger could have any girl he wanted, and I was certainly nothing special.

The streets were strangely quiet for London on a Friday night. We were clearly two of the only idiots who wanted to be out walking on such a frigid evening – and to a park no less. Roger reached up into his jacket pocket to pull a cigarette out and light it. His brows were still drawn together in a scowl, as he shoved his free hand into the pocket of his jeans in an attempt to stave off the bitter February cold.

Just ahead of us was the entrance to Holland Park, leading onto a narrow paved pathway that ran between a large shadowy building to our left, and what appeared to be tennis courts to our right. The night air was frosty and dank, and a fine layer of fog hovered over the damp earth. The place was relatively creepy overall, with very little light to see our surroundings. The only things that I could really make out as we walked further down the path were lots of large leafless trees, whose sinister branches looked as though they could reach out and grab us at any moment.

We stopped in a heavily wooded area where Roger found a sturdy tree trunk to casually lean his back against. He took a drag off of his cigarette then gave me a forced smile. “Look, I’m really sorry about what happened tonight,” he said at last.

“Are you okay?” I asked, standing a few feet away from him with my arms folded across my chest for warmth.

“Am _I_ okay?” he asked with raised eyebrows. “I’m more worried about whether or not you’re okay. That was hardly the introduction that I’d hoped for between you and my friends.”

“I’m fine,” I shrugged. “I was thinking more about some of the things that Freddie was saying to Brian about you.”

“Freddie paints a lovely picture of my character, doesn’t he?” Roger smiled sardonically before taking another draw off of his cigarette.

“Is there any truth to what he said?” 

“No,” Roger said quickly. “No, I swear.”

“Why would such a good friend say things like that then?” My question came out sounding accusatory, and I instantly regretted it.

Roger dropped his cigarette butt onto the frozen ground and snuffed it out with the toe of his boot.

“The thing is…” he began. “The thing is, fellas tend to say things when they’re around other fellas. Stupid things. Mostly they brag about the things that they’ve done with the opposite sex. Only about half of it is true.”

I raised my eyebrows and nodded slowly, not sure if I was completely convinced.

“Make that more like twenty percent,” Roger chuckled, noting the skepticism in my expression. “Look, I won’t lie. I’ve had my fair share of girlfriends, but I’m not some prat womanizer. I promise.”

“Okay, I believe you,” I said after a moment of thought. After all, this was only the second time I’d ever been in Roger’s company. Who was I to judge?

Just then a screech louder than anything I’d ever heard in my life rent though the air like something out of an Amazonian jungle.

“What the hell was that??” I gasped, moving closer to Roger.

He just laughed and wrapped his arms around me, telling me that there were peacocks in the park.

“That noise came from a peacock?” I breathed, clutching at my chest. “My God, I thought we were about to have a Bigfoot sighting!”

Roger laughed even louder and said, “I’m pretty sure that there aren’t any Bigfoots in England. I had no idea that you were so funny, by the way.”

I looked up at Roger’s sparkling blue eyes, and realized, now that I wasn’t terrified of being attacked by a giant primate, that I was in fact, completely enveloped in his arms and that his face was just inches from mine. My heart started pounding in my ears. He smelled wonderful, like leather, tobacco and faintly of cologne.

His smile slowly faded, as we stood wrapped in each other’s arms, and was eventually replaced by yet another scowl.

“What’s wrong?” I managed to croak out.

“It’s just that… I just got through telling you what I nice fellow I am, and yet, all I can think about is how badly I want to kiss you,” he said. “I don’t want you to think that I brought you here to take advantage of you.”

I blushed and looked down at Roger’s chest.

“I don’t think you’re trying to take advantage of me,” I said quietly. I smiled and lifted my eyes to meet his as I added, “In fact, all I could think of when you were standing next to me in the doorway of my bedroom was how much I wanted to kiss you.”

“Really?” Roger smiled back, pulling me even closer. “Why didn’t you say so?”

His eyes strayed to my mouth as he cupped the back of my head in his hands and lowered his face to mine. His lips pressed lightly against mine at first, his hands roaming down my back, coming to rest at my waist. I closed my eyes and reached up to let my fingers tangle in his shaggy blonde locks. The heat of his body pressing against mine sent shivers down to my toes, and certain parts of my anatomy were making it very clear how much I desperately wanted more of him.

Our kisses became deeper and more passionate, savoring each other with a fervor that was hard to control. The taste of cigarettes and beer was a heady concoction that left me breathless. How I longed to go somewhere more private with him, preferably someplace warmer.

No matter how much I tried to hide it, it was obvious to both of us how badly I’d begun to shiver. He pulled away and looked at me with concern in his eyes.

“Are you cold?” he asked, his breath coming out in wisps of air. “That was a stupid question, of course you’re cold.”

I couldn’t tell him that I was shaking from far more than just the weather.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t be keeping you out on a night like this.”

He leaned back slightly and swiped away a lock of hair that had fallen in my face.

“We could go back to Freddie’s, but after the way things went tonight…” Roger went on, his words trailing off as he tried to think of a better plan. “Do you think that coffee shop is still open below your flat?”

“Probably,” I replied. “It’s usually open pretty late.”

The two of us walked back to Roger’s car a few blocks away, and drove the four or five miles it took to get to Henrietta Street and the coffee shop below my flat.

“I have to admit, this feels much better,” I said sitting down at a table inside the warm shop with a steaming cup of coffee clutched between my freezing cold hands. Roger sat directly across from me, and it was nice to be in a well-lit place where I could actually see his beautiful blue eyes and childlike grin. My gaze kept straying to his pouty lips, excitement welling up inside of me at the thought of what we’d just been doing in Holland Park.

“I really am sorry to have kept you out in the cold,” Roger apologized again. “I’m obviously not thinking very clearly tonight.”

“It’s okay,” I said, reaching across the table to grasp his hand.

He smiled at me and squeezed my hand in return.

“So tell me more about yourself,” I said, taking a sip of coffee with my free hand. “How old are you? Where did you grow up? How long have you been playing drums?”

“Let’s see, I’m 22, I grew up in Cornwall in the town of Truro, and I’ve been playing drums since I was about nine or ten I guess. I started out with an old snare drum that my dad had found, but before that, I used to bang on my mum’s pots and pans with knitting needles,” he laughed. “How about you?”

“Um, well, as you learned tonight, I’m 21. I’ll be 22 next month. I grew up in the town of Fresno in Central California, and I’ve tried my hand at drums a few times, but I’m not very good I’m afraid,” I said.

“Really? Are you interested in playing drums?” he asked.

“Oh, maybe a little,” I admitted. “My brother was part of a garage band when I was a kid, so I used to mess around with their drummer’s kit once in a while. The problem is that I have a pretty serious injury to my right arm that makes it difficult for me to play for any length of time.”

“What’s wrong with your arm?” Roger asked, looking at me with concern.

I told him the story of how I’d been a rather large baby, and how my shoulder got jammed while my mom was giving birth to me, causing severe nerve damage in my right arm.

“How large were you?” he asked.

“Large,” I said. “12 pounds in American weight, close to one stone in British weight.”

“No, that can’t be right!” he exclaimed. “You look like you barely weigh more than that now!”

“It’s true,” I laughed. “So when is your birthday?”

“26th of July,” he answered.

I quickly leafed through the zodiac chart in my mind.

“Ah, so you’re a Leo,” I said. Leo was good. I generally got along well with Leos.

“Yes, Leo the lion,” he said. “In fact, Freddie’s been working on a logo for the band based on all of our astrological signs.”

He looked like a Leo I decided, with his crooked grin and mane of sandy blonde hair.

“What about you?” he continued. “You said your birthday is next month?”

“Yes, March 23rd,” I said. “Making me Aries the ram.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know all that much about astrological signs,” Roger admitted. “Are we supposed to get on well?”

“Actually, we are,” I laughed. “Aries and Leo are both fire signs, therefore, we’re supposed to be compatible.”

We spent the rest of the evening talking more about our childhoods, our likes and dislikes, and anything else we could think of, discovering in the process that we had quite a bit in common. He liked fast cars and I liked fast cars. We both liked the same kinds of music, and although our tastes differed a little regarding authors and genres, we both enjoyed a good book. We were definitely off to a good start!

I learned that all of the guys I’d met at Freddie’s flat were, in fact, all the members of Queen. Roger was their drummer, Brian the guitarist, John played bass, and Freddie was the lead vocalist and pianist. I told Roger more about Annie and how we’d met, and the conversation just kept flowing until the owner of the coffee shop finally had to kick us out. Obviously we both liked to talk as well!

We finished off the last of our coffee, and Roger walked me upstairs to my flat. I wasn’t sure whether or not I should invite him in. After what had happened in Holland Park, I was afraid we might start kissing again and wouldn’t able to stop. Although I was desperately attracted to him, it was still much too soon for more than a few stolen kisses.

Thankfully, he saved me the trouble of having to come up with an excuse.

“Well, it’s late,” he said, standing in my doorway, “and I don’t want to keep you up any longer than I already have.”

I got the feeling that he was hoping I’d say, “No, don’t worry about it! Come on in!” but the whirlwind events of the evening truly were starting to catch up with me, and I told him as much as nicely as I could. He apologized again for the fiasco at Freddie’s, and told me that he was definitely going to have a few words with his business partner.

He leaned in to kiss me good night, and once again we found it difficult to control our desires. I closed my eyes, drinking in the taste of coffee and cigarettes on his breath. God, how I wanted him. It took every ounce of my strength not to cave in and drag him into my flat, shutting the door and the rest of the world firmly away.

I forced myself to pull away, knowing that if I didn’t, things were going to go too far. His blue eyes were cloudy with desire. I clung to Roger, trying to catch my breath, while every muscle in my body screamed at me to finish what we’d started.

“I guess this is good night then,” he said, his voice sounding smokier than usual.

“I guess so,” I replied. “But we’ll be seeing each other at the fashion show next week, right?”

“Yes,” he brightened, “the fashion show. That’s right.”

How would I survive the following week without seeing him? I wondered.

“Well, I’ll see you then,” I said.

“See you then,” he smiled, and I watched him walk downstairs until he was out of sight. I hadn’t realized until that moment what a cute little ass he had. The bottom of his jacket just reached the waistband of his pants, leaving a perfect view of his backside and the way his tight jeans clung to his form.

I closed the door, and like the silly schoolgirl that I was, I ran to my kitchen window, which faced the street, and watched him get in his car and drive off. Thankfully he didn’t see me. I leaned my head against the cold glass of the window, and started mentally counting down the hours until I saw him again the following week. How on earth I would manage to get through my classes with Roger and the upcoming fashion show swimming around in my head remained to be seen.

The fashion show - the words suddenly clicked in my head. Weren’t we supposed to go over the fashion show at Freddie’s? Or had that just been a ruse on Roger’s part, providing him with an excuse to call me? Then again, did it really matter? All I knew was that I got to see him again, and share a few glorious kisses with him. Regardless of what had happened at Freddie’s, the evening had turned out pretty well after all. I just couldn’t seem to stop smiling as I turned away from my kitchen window and floated into my living room. And the best part was, in only one week, I was going to see Roger again and get to dress up in a lovely Victorian gown. Life was definitely good.


	6. Chapter 6

It took a lot of effort, but somehow I managed to make it through the week leading up to the fashion show. Roger called me just to talk three of the nights during that week, which I was thrilled about, but it did little to help my lack of concentration where my studies were concerned. I found myself daydreaming in class, thinking about Holland Park, long blonde hair and very kissable pouty lips.

The worst of it came in class one day when one of my professors caught me staring off into space, and asked me not once, but twice, what effect the Battle of Waterloo had had on British society. My highly intelligent answer to his question had been, “Huh?”

Finally the big day of the fashion show arrived, and I was ecstatic. Roger offered to come by and give me a lift, but since Annie was going too, I told him we’d just take the bus and meet him there.

We showed up at the ground floor level of Kensington Market (where the show was being held) about ten minutes late because of traffic and buses not showing up on time. Freddie was frantically looking for me as we walked in. Annie found a seat close to the runway, and Freddie ushered me quickly backstage.

“Where on earth have you been? I thought Roger was picking you up,” Freddie questioned as we dodged people and racks of clothing.

“There wasn’t enough room in his car. Annie came with me so we had to take the bus,” I replied, as I was nearly smacked in the head by a pair of shoes that came flying through the air as they were tossed from one person to another. The whole place seemed like Bedlam everywhere I looked, with people shouting and running around, and half-dressed models searching for their clothes.

Soon we were tucked away in a small, secluded area backstage that had been set up as a makeshift dressing room. Freddie dragged me over to a rack of clothing, and started quickly explaining what he wanted me to do.

“Right, here’s your outfit,” he said. “Sally is wearing the green frock and you’re wearing the red.”

I assumed he meant the Sally that I’d met at his flat a few days before.

“Hopefully the two of you will be able to help each other get dressed,” Freddie added. “I’ve got chemises, corsets, stockings and high-button boots for both of you. Oh, and there are crinolines to go under your gowns, of course. If the boots don’t fit, just come out in your stockings, no one will be able to tell.”

“Where is Sally?” I asked.

“She should be here any moment,” Freddie said, nervously glancing at his watch.

At least I wasn’t the only one running late, I thought.

“No bloomers, huh?” I asked, half jokingly, as I shuffled through the clothing on the rack.

“No, darling, we don’t have any of those in the shop, so you’ll either have to wear what you have on, or go without,” Freddie said with a wicked grin. “Now, I’d better go see how Roger’s doing.”

At the sound of Roger’s name, my ears instantly perked up.

“Where is Roger?” I asked a little too eagerly.

“He’s just in the room next door, darling, don’t fret. You’ll see him soon enough.” And with that Cheshire Cat grin of his, he left in pursuit of his quarry.

Once Freddie was gone, I finally had a chance to look around at the room I was in, and was a little embarrassed to see how many other people were milling around in the backstage area. Thankfully, there was a partition of sorts, so I was relatively isolated, and everyone was so busy trying to get ready for the show that they scarcely knew I was there anyway.

I decided that I’d better at least get my undergarments on while I waited for Sally, so I peeled off the sneakers, bell-bottoms, sweater and bra that I came in, stacked them up in a pile on a nearby chair, and threw one of the chemises over my head. There was a battered old red couch near me, so I sat down to take off my socks and replace them with the Victorian stockings. Although, as I studied them further, I realized that they were just modern replicas of Victorian stockings, not the real thing, and I wondered where Freddie had gotten them. Then again, he did have a shop at the most eclectic clothing market in town, so I doubted that they were too difficult to find.

I was looking over the Victorian boots that Freddie had left us to see if either pair would fit me, when I realized that someone was in the room with me, looking my way. I looked up expecting to see Sally, but instead I saw Brian.

“Oh, hi,” I mumbled, nearly tripping over one of the Victorian boots as I got up from the couch a little too quickly.

His eyes flew to my chest momentarily, then he hastily looked away as he cleared his throat and asked, “Er, is Freddie back here?”

“No,” I said. “As far as I know, he went to see how Roger was doing.”

“Well, he’s not with Roger, cause Roger is looking for him.”

“There seems to be a lot of people gone AWOL today,” I smiled. “I’m waiting for Sally to help me get dressed.”

Brian looked my way again, and again, his eyes found my chest before finding my eyes.

“Right, well, if you see Freddie, tell him Roger’s looking for him,” he said as he turned to leave, then, as an afterthought he added, “You know, I wanted to tell you how sorry I am about the other night at Freddie’s. It had sort of been a bad day for me before I ever turned up at his flat, one of several bad days actually, and then Freddie and I both had a bit to drink, and… Well, I’m sorry. I’m not usually that bad tempered.”

“It’s okay,” I shrugged. “We all have our off days.”

“Yeah, well, thanks for being so understanding,” Brian said, giving me a soft smile. “Listen, if I see Sally, I’ll tell her you’re looking for her.”

His eyes darted to my chest one last time before he turned and made his way back through the nearby doorway into Roger’s room.

About two seconds after Brian had left, Freddie came bustling into the room from the other direction with Sally in tow, mumbling something under his breath about people being late and what a nuisance public transportation was. He dragged her up to the clothing rack and explained to her what she’d be wearing for the show, much as he had with me, only with more panic in his voice. Sally listened and nodded at everything he had to say, while at the same time starting to disrobe.

No humility there, I thought. I was suddenly seeing more of Sally than I’d ever wanted to.

“And how are you doing?” Freddie asked, suddenly turning his attention toward me.

“Okay,” I answered. “I just need help with the corset and gown. Oh, and Brian was just in here looking for you. Apparently Roger needs your help with something.”

“Brian was in here? And you were wearing that?” Freddie asked with a crooked grin and an arched eyebrow.

“Yeah, why?” I asked. I looked down at my chemise and stockings wondering what the problem was. From my angle, nothing seemed amiss.

“Come here darling,” Freddie laughed, shoving me in front of a full-length mirror hanging on the wall a few feet away.

I looked at my reflection, and realized with dawning horror that the chemise I had on was almost completely transparent. I had been in such a hurry to put it on that it hadn’t occurred to me how thin the fabric was. I frantically reached up to cover my exposed breasts. It was no wonder that Brian kept glancing at me so nervously! I turned a deep shade of red as Freddie roared with laughter.

“So much for being a virgin you little vixen you!” he exclaimed.

“Oh God… just, stop talking!” I mumbled. I saw my pile of clothes laying a few feet from where I was standing, and quickly reached for my sweater, pressing it tightly against my chest. I couldn’t remember ever feeling so embarrassed in my life. “Do me a favor Freddie and please don’t tell Roger about this.”

“I’m the soul of discretion, darling,” he said with sincerity. “Now come on ladies, you must get ready!”

Freddie wandered into the next room to see what Roger needed, and Sally and I were left to shift for ourselves. We helped each other with the lengthy process of lacing up our corsets and fastening our crinolines, then turned to our gowns. Hers was a dark green 1880s bustle gown, which fit her figure unbelievably well. Mine was a beautiful dark red 1860s evening gown that required me to suck my breath in as much as humanly possible in order to get the bodice fastened. I was praying that I wouldn’t pop one of the ancient seams.

Sally and I then helped each other pin our hair up in styles that weren’t exactly historically accurate, but serviceable nonetheless. We both tried to squeeze our feet into the high-buttoned boots, but our feet were just too big. I felt like Cinderella’s ugly stepsister trying to shove my foot into the tiny glass slipper.

“How are we doing ladies?” a voice called after us. This time it was Freddie’s girlfriend, Mary.

“Okay,” Sally and I both said.

“As soon as you’re ready we’ll get you into position. The two of you and Roger are the third to go on.”

We said that we were about as ready as we were going to be, and Mary led us out a side door toward the stage. Trying to maneuver around obstacles like people and furniture with a huge crinoline cage on proved to be particularly difficult, and I found myself wondering how in the world Victorian ladies managed it.

I jockeyed for a position behind the stage curtain, sidestepping several other fashion show participants in the process, when I looked up and saw my golden blonde Adonis.

Roger was leaning casually against a post near the back of the stage when his eyes caught mine, his face splitting into a grin from ear to ear. My heart stopped. I couldn’t tell what was going to make me faint first, my corset restricting my ability to breathe, or the sight of Roger wearing a Victorian waistcoat, tailcoat and top hat.

“Look at you!” I exclaimed, moving toward him with my hands outstretched.

“Me? Look at you!” he said, standing up straighter and reaching for my hands. He gave me a quick hug before taking a step back in order to see me better. “Give us a turn,” he said, twirling his finger in a circle in mid-air.

I spread my hands out to my sides and gave him a quick spin, my crinoline swishing in the process. When I turned to face him again, he was running his eyes up and down my form in an appraising manner.

“Well?” I prompted, noticing that his eyes had become temporarily glued to my exposed cleavage.

“Er, sorry, what?” he said, pretending that he hadn’t heard me.

“Oh, stop it,” I said, slapping him lightly on the arm.

“Seriously though,” he chuckled, leaning closer to me, “you look amazing.”

“So do you,” I said.

The room suddenly seemed to get very quiet as we looked into each other’s eyes. All the voices and excitement around us seemed to disappear. It was just the two of us, silently reliving thoughts of a very cold night in Holland Park.

“Roger! Roger!” Freddie bellowed, snapping us both out of our daydreams. “It’s time for the three of you to go on!”

“Oh, right,” Roger mumbled. He linked his right arm through my left, and his left arm through Sally’s right, and the three of us sauntered past the curtain onto the long catwalk in front of us.

I looked out at all the people watching us and nearly tripped over the hem of my gown. Somehow, in all my excitement over the last few days, daydreaming about Roger transforming into my very own Victorian romance hero, I’d neglected to realize that there would be actual strangers watching my every move on stage.

I looked over at Roger and realized that the crowd didn’t frighten him one bit. He was right in his element. He smiled and simpered, and had every girl in the room eating out of the palm of his hand. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, right at that very moment, that he was going to be someone someday. Whether it was Queen or something else entirely, he had fame written all over him.

Before I knew it we were at the end of the runway. I spotted Annie and gave her a quick wave. Roger let go of Sally’s arm and mine in order to turn and preen for the audience. What a show off he was! Sally and I followed suit, turning and posing for the crowd. Then, a group of guys that obviously knew Roger started shouting snide comments our way.

“Oi, nice togs, Rog!” the first guy yelled.

“I say, didn’t know you was working for the Queen as one of her butlers these days!” the second guy shouted in a mock posh accent. Both men laughed hysterically.

Roger seemed to be taking it as all in good fun, but flipped them the bird before turning to grab my arm and Sally’s for the long walk back up the stage.

“Oi! That’s not very gentleman-like!” one of the men shouted, while the other wolf whistled louder than I’d ever heard.

“Don’t pay any attention to them,” Roger leaned over and whispered in my ear as we continued walking. “They’re mates of mine and Freddie’s from the market.”

Just as I had suspected. It never ceased to amaze me how loud and obnoxious British people could be when they wanted to be. And they considered us Americans to be barbaric and rude?

The three of us reached the end of the catwalk as two girls wearing a conglomeration of hippie paraphernalia appeared from behind the curtain, taking our places on stage.

“Oh, thank God that’s over!” Freddie sighed, approaching us from the throng of people crowding the backstage area.

“Are we finished then?” Roger asked him, taking off the top hat and thrusting into Freddie’s hands.

“For now,” Freddie replied. “Everyone is supposed to go on at the end to take a bow though.”

“How much time do we have?” Roger asked, just as a throng of girls nearby started laughing loudly.

“What?” Freddie asked, clearly having difficulty hearing Roger over the crowds of people backstage.

“How many more people still have to go on stage before it’s over?” Roger asked in a louder voice.

“Quite a few I should think,” Freddie replied, eyeing Roger suspiciously. “Why?”

Roger looked over at me with that crooked grin and mischievous sparkle in his eye and whispered, “Come on.”

He grabbed hold of my hand and pulled me at a slow run toward an opening off the side of the stage. It was all I could do to keep pace with him in my layers of clothing.

“Roger! You’d better be back in time!” Freddie called after us.

I had no idea where Roger was taking me, but we dodged several people in our path, darted down a deserted hallway, and ran down a flight of stairs, which ended in a dark basement of some sort.

“Welcome to my private sanctuary,” Roger smiled, holding his hands aloft in an effort to display his surroundings.

The room was relatively dark and cold, and about the only things I could make out were creepy formless shapes jutting out in all directions. As my eyes adjusted to the lack of light, I realized that the shapes were nothing more sinister than stacks of boxes, piles of undressed mannequins, and disassembled metal shelves and clothing racks. In other words, it was a storage room.

Roger led me to one of the only pieces of furniture that the room had to offer, a slightly broken down floral couch that had clearly seen it’s prime at least a decade before. In front of the couch was a grimy wooden coffee table with one leg propped up on a book for support.

“This is where I come when I want some time alone. Or, in other words, when Freddie starts driving me mad,” Roger laughed.

He studied the blank look on my face as I tried to take everything in. 

“I know it’s not much,” he went on, looking slightly deflated, “but I had to get you alone somewhere before you took that silly dress off.”

My expression brightened instantly.

“Silly?” I teased, planting my hands on my hips. “I thought you said I looked amazing!”

“You look amazingly silly!” Roger exclaimed, grabbing me around the waist and tossing me onto the couch in one fell swoop. I squealed with laughter as my crinoline cage popped up in the air, making me look like some bizarre cartoon version of Little Bo Peep if she’d fallen on her backside. All I needed was a crook and a few sheep to complete the effect.

Roger wasted no time making good use of the state of my dress, diving underneath my crinoline and popping his head out like a comical jack-in-the-box. We both laughed uncontrollably as he made a different silly face every time he popped his head up. Considering the fact that I wasn’t wearing much under my dress, I was suddenly very glad that the room provided so little in the way of light. There was a time and a place for Roger to make it to third base, and a brief fling in a storage room wasn’t it.

“Here, let me see,” I laughed, getting up momentarily to hike my dress up in the back so that I could sit down without it popping up.

The laughter and smiles eventually died away as Roger moved closer to me, finding my lips with his own. All the sensations I’d experienced in Holland Park came flooding back over me like a tidal wave. The smell of his cologne, the taste of cigarettes on his breath, his lips so soft and warm, teasing and coaxing mine into wanting more.

He gently pressed me back onto the sofa, his long, lean body covering my own. I suddenly found myself very much regretting all the layers of clothing we both had on. Although the heat from our bodies penetrated the thick fabric, it was difficult to feel much else. Not to mention the fact that I had metal boning gouging me in the ribs from my corset. I didn’t care though, because I had Roger alone and all to myself again, even if it was for a brief moment.

Our kisses grew longer and deeper. Our mouths devoured one another’s, tongues exploring and tasting each other with a hunger I never knew I could possess. He trailed kisses down my neck to the soft swell of my breasts just visible above the neckline of my gown. I silently cursed my snug dress for not allowing him to go farther. Realizing his defeat, he slowly moved back up to my lips, plunging his tongue back into my mouth.

He ran his hand along my body in a soft caress, cupping his long fingers around my left breast, teasing my nipple through the fabric of my dress with his thumb. My nipples tightened in response to his touch, longing, as the rest of my body was, to feel his skin against mine.

I reached my hands into his tailcoat, trying desperately to feel the warm skin of his back beneath my fingers, but once again too many layers of clothing got in the way. In order to provide me better access, he propped himself up long enough to shake his arms out of his coat sleeves, flinging the coat onto the coffee table. He quickly unfastened the buttons of his waistcoat, allowing it to hang open in the front, as he laid back on top of me, finding my mouth with his again.

The open waistcoat provided a little more access, as I ran my hands along the taught muscles of his back through the thin fabric of his shirt. He reached down to gently lift the hem of my skirt, his fingers gently stroking the outer part of my leg and thigh, while he nibbled and sucked on my earlobe. The feel of his warm breath caressing my ear sent shivers down my body.

“Oh God,” I breathed, the tightness between my legs becoming unbearable.

“Carrie,” he whispered huskily in my ear, trailing kisses across my cheek until he found my mouth once again. I wrapped my legs around his thighs as much as my constrictive clothing would allow. My skirts shifted as I moved, providing him with better access to my upper thigh and backside. He immediately took advantage of the situation, running his hand higher up my thigh and under my panties to cup the left side of my ass. I whimpered as my mouth sought out his neck, kissing and sucking at his Adam’s apple, working my way lower to the hollow of his throat, barely exposed above his Victorian shirt collar.

“Oh God,” he moaned, burying his hands in my hair, as he pressed me closer.

Suddenly, the room lit up with a bright white light that left us both temporarily blinded. It was as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped on us.

“Darling, you’re not going to be a virgin much longer with this kind of behavior,” a voice (that obviously belonged to Freddie) said from the doorway.

Roger and I both made a hasty attempt to sit up, shielding our eyes from the light with our hands, and bumping our heads in the process.

“Damn it Freddie,” Roger growled, rubbing his head. “You really do have impeccable timing.”

“I told you dear, we have an encore. You must go take your bow.”

“I don’t bloody well care about taking a bow!”

“Well I do, and I can’t very well take a bow without my models, now can I?” Freddie explained.

Roger sat mumbling incoherent threats under his breath, while I struggled to get myself off of the couch so that I could at least attempt to straighten myself out.

“Just look at you darling, you’re an absolute mess,” Freddie said to me with that wicked grin of his. “Roger, what did you do to this poor child?”

Freddie was right. My skirt had completely twisted sideways, my stockings were pooled around my ankles, and my hair, once neatly pinned up, had fallen halfway down to my shoulders, with pins sticking out in every direction.

“How much longer until we need to be onstage?” I asked, reaching up to pluck stray pins out of my hair.

“Five minutes, ten at the most,” Freddie replied languidly. He was leaning against the door jam loving every minute of the way he was disconcerting us.

“We’ll be there, okay?” I said grabbing my skirts and twisting them back into their proper place. When Freddie didn’t leave right away, I made little shooing motions with my hands.

“See you upstairs,” Freddie grinned before turning to walk away.

I turned to Roger, who was sitting on the edge of the couch with his face buried in his hands. His waistcoat was still hanging open, his shirt was half un-tucked, and his hair looked messier than usual. I knew that Freddie’s interruption had to be even more painful for him than it was for me. And believe me, I was in pain. Every muscle in my body ached for Roger. The deepest recesses of my body longed for a fulfillment that couldn’t happen.

“Are you okay?” I asked tentatively.

Roger squinted up at me with a forced smile on his face.

“Peachy,” he replied.

“Look, if it helps,” I said sitting down next to him, “this wasn’t really the right time or place. I don’t know about you, but I’d like our first time to be someplace warm and private. Preferably without half-naked mannequins staring at us.”

Roger laughed. “You’re right,” he said. “It was a bad idea to bring you down here. Not exactly the most romantic of places. I’m sorry.”

“Are you kidding?” I said. “Being alone with you, and getting to see a place where you spend quiet, thoughtful, Freddie-less moments could never be a bad thing.”

Roger smiled, and reached out to caress my face. I was falling so hard for this man. It seemed impossible that this was only the third day that we’d spent in each other’s company.

“All right,” he said at last, “the fashion queen has summoned us, so let’s go take our bow.”


	7. Chapter 7

The fashion show ended in a resounding success, with Roger, Sally, Freddie and me walking out to take our bow amongst all the other participants. As excited as I’d been the last two weeks leading up to the event, I had to admit that I was a little relieved that the whole thing was over. And I was definitely happy to be able to take off my Victorian ensemble. I had a whole new respect for 19th century women and the things they had to endure in order to be fashionable.

I slipped into my jeans and sweater in the backstage dressing room and never before had I felt so comfortable. Even my bra, which usually drove me crazy, was a welcome relief from the restrictive corset with its metal boning bruising my ribs.

“All right darlings, we’re off to play pool,” Freddie announced, walking without warning into the girls section of the dressing room with Roger, Brian and Mary in tow. “Who’s coming with us?”

Thankfully I was fully dressed, except for my shoes, which I was in the process of putting on. Sally wasn’t so lucky, as she hastily buttoned up her blouse.

“I’m buying drinks tonight to celebrate our success,” Freddie added in an attempt to sweeten the deal.

Sally made her excuses, and said that she had plans with Veronica.

“It sounds great,” I said, “but Annie’s here, and I don’t know what her plans are.”

“Er, I think Annie may have left,” Roger ventured.

“What?” I asked. “No, she wouldn’t have left.”

“Well, there’s no one left in any of the seats out there, I looked,” Roger explained.

“Wait, are we talking about your friend?” Freddie asked me. “The tall black girl with all the hair?”

“Yes, Annie,” I said.

“Oh, she left,” Freddie said decidedly. “I saw her walk out with a couple of chaps from the market.”

“Are you serious?” I asked incredulously.

I stood up in my freshly tied shoes, and marched out of the dressing room and into the backstage area in order to peek through the curtains. Sure enough, the place was already deserted.

“Son of a bitch,” I said exasperatedly, making my way back into the dressing room. “We had to ride the bus today because she wanted to come!”

I couldn’t believe that she would just take off without telling me!

“Well, I’ve got my car if you want to go play pool with us,” Roger offered. “In fact, the pub we usually go to is fairly close to my flat, so I can just drop off the car and we can walk.”

“Okay,” I said, looking down at what I had on. “I guess I’m dressed for playing pool.”

I received a resounding chorus of “You look fine!” from everyone.

“Actually, the room with the pool table can be a little chilly, so it’s probably good that you’ve got a jumper on,” Roger commented.

“A what?” I asked.

“A jumper,” Roger repeated, motioning up and down his torso.

I looked down at the area he was referring to on my own body, and it finally occurred to me what he meant.

“Oh! You mean a sweater!” I said.

“A sweater? Why would you want to wear something that’s meant to make you sweat?” Roger grinned.

“I don’t know. Why would you want to wear something that’s meant to make you jump?” I laughed.

“Oh, yes, we get it. Americans and Brits speak different English. Ha-ha, you’re both hilarious!” Freddie exclaimed, clutching his sides, pretending to laugh. “Now are we going or not?”

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It didn’t take long for everyone to leave Kensington Market and gather at The Kensington Pub for the evening’s festivities. By the time Roger and I had dropped off his car and walked there, Freddie had already purchased a bottle of vodka and a bottle of whisky for everyone to share, and was busily pouring out shot glassfuls while Brian was setting up the pool table. The poolroom was off to the side of the main part of the pub through a narrow doorway, but the noise from the bar room beyond, with it’s raised voices, laughter and clinking glasses, filtered into the poolroom as if there wasn’t a wall separating the two sections of the pub at all.

“Ah, so the two of you _did_ show up!” Freddie shouted over the din as Roger and I walked in hand in hand. “I told Brian I was certain that the two of you would end up at Roger’s finishing what you started in the storage room at the market.”

Roger and I tried to play off Freddie’s comment as if we hadn’t thought of doing the very thing he was accusing us of, and Brian just continued to quietly rack up balls, ignoring Freddie completely.

“Mary, are you playing?” Freddie shouted out across the poolroom.

Mary was sitting comfortably in an overstuffed leather chair in the corner with a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other, and said that she’d be happy to sit the first round out. That left Freddie, Roger, Brian and me to play in teams of two each.

“You know, if Mary wants to play, I can sit out,” I offered. “I’ve never really played pool anyway.”

“I’m hardly surprised, seeing as how you live like a hermit,” Freddie teased. “But tell me,” he went on with a wicked gleam in his eyes, “how are you at holding your liquor, darling?”

“Why?” I asked in a dry tone.

“Because when we play pool, every time someone misses a shot, they have to drink a shot,” Freddie answered.

Fantastic, I thought. I glanced across the room at the lethal appearance of the drinks Freddie had chosen and knew I was in trouble.

“I assume you and Roger will want to be on the same team?” Freddie asked me.

“Yeah, we can be on the same team,” Roger answered for me, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me into his side. “That way I can help her out if she needs it.”

Everyone chose a pool cue, and Brian was elected to break. The yellow number 1 ball went into a corner pocket, so Brian got to go again. He missed the ball he was aiming for on his second turn and was forced to drink a shot of whisky. After seeing the look on his face after downing it, I was hoping that I would at least be able to choose which of the drinks I had to consume. After all, vodka had to be better than whisky, right?

So then it was our turn, and I was more than happy to let Roger go first. I watched as he sank the number 14 ball into one of the side pockets. Well, technically, I was watching the way his muscles moved in his sexy forearms as he made the shot, but he informed me that it was the 14-ball after it went in.

“We’re playing solids and stripes,” he explained to me. “Freddie and Brian are solid colors and we’re the stripes. The black 8-ball has to be the last to go in, and whoever gets that wins the game.”

Seemed simple enough, I supposed.

Since Roger made his first shot, he got to go again. He was aiming for the 10-ball to go in a corner pocket, but missed. It took me a second to realize this fact, because I was far more interested in looking at this backside as he bent over the table. The man looked gorgeous as always. He was wearing a black button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a worn and torn pair of bell-bottomed jeans, that happened to have a long gash just below his left butt cheek. How could I not stare?

“Shit,” he mumbled, walking across the room to grab a glass of vodka. He downed it in one gulp, and then reached into his pocket to pull out his cigarettes.

“All right, my turn,” Freddie said. He made two consecutive shots, and then barely missed on the third. Like Roger, he downed one of the shots of vodka in one gulp.

“Your turn darling,” he smiled at me.

“Great,” I mumbled.

“It’s okay, look, you’ve got a perfect shot right here,” Roger said, directing my attention to the 12-ball sitting about 7 or 8 inches from one of the side pockets.

“If you say so…” I said distractedly, looking around for the cue ball. I found it just to my right, and tried to line myself up with both balls as best I could. I shifted the cue in my hands a couple of times, trying to figure out exactly how to hold it, when Roger came to my rescue.

“I forgot, you’re left handed,” Roger grinned. “Here let me help you…”

He came up behind me and adjusted my hands on the cue until I was holding it properly. He wrapped his arms around me, placing his hands on mine, and tried to help me aim as best he could. Of course, all he was really doing was completely obliterating my ability to concentrate altogether. The feeling of his body pressed against mine made my stomach do somersaults.

“It’s difficult for me to help you since you’re left handed,” he breathed into my ear, “but if you just prop the cue up a bit, like this…”

“Mm-hmm,” I muttered, trying to adjust the way I held the cue in my right hand. “Like this?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” Freddie yelled. “Either shoot the ball or get a room!”

“I’m just trying to help!” Roger said defensively, holding his hands out to his sides as he stood upright again.

I glared at Freddie over my shoulder then turned my focus back to the task at hand. I pulled back the cue, hit the cue ball (barely), which spun wildly just grazing the side of the 12-ball.

“Crap,” I said, scrunching up my face. I looked to Roger and said, “I hope you’re not going to mind losing.”

“You did good,” he replied, trying to be supportive. “It was quite good, in fact, considering you haven’t played before.”

“Yes, well, now it’s time to choose your poison my dear,” Freddie grinned at me, motioning toward the vodka and whiskey.

I walked slowly across the room to the table where all the shot glasses were lined up and picked up one of the whiskey glasses to smell it. The aroma about knocked me over. So I picked up one of the vodkas, which smelled slightly less lethal, and decided that it was definitely the lesser of two evils. I figured I’d try and swig it all down in one gulp the way the guys did. After all, the faster I drank it, the faster it would be over, right? It would be like ripping off a Band-Aid.

“Bottoms up!” I grimaced, and drank the vodka in one shot. I, of course, began spluttering and coughing immediately afterwards, trying desperately to catch my breath. Freddie thought the whole thing was hilarious, but Roger at least was kind enough to ask if I was okay.

“Oh, I’ll be fine,” I wheezed. “That stuff will definitely put some hair on my chest though.”

Roger looked even more concerned now, his eyes darting down to my chest.

“I certainly hope not,” he said with a scowl. “I have plans for that chest, and they don’t involve hair.”

I just laughed and wrapped my arms around him.

“Sorry,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s just an old joke between my dad and me.”

The game continued on with Brian sinking two balls during his turn. Roger also got two, then Freddie managed to get one, which made the game very lopsided in Brian and Freddie’s favor. Soon it was my turn again, and again, I didn’t hit anything, which meant that it was time for another shot of vodka. It didn’t take long before all four of us were starting to feel a little giddy.

In the end, Brian managed to sink the last two of the solid colored balls, but missed the 8-ball by a hair. Roger, who was holding his liquor far better than I was, miraculously got the last three striped balls, but he also missed the 8-ball. Freddie tried to hit it and missed, I tried to hit it and missed, but luckily tapped it enough where it became a far easier shot for Brian, who finally got it.

Thank God! I thought. The room was already starting to spin. One more shot of vodka and I would have most likely been _under_ the pool table unconscious!

After the game was over, the four of us were laughing and chatting, trying to figure out who would make up the teams for the next round, when, from out of nowhere, John wandered into the poolroom.

“John!” Freddie, Roger and Brian sang out, while John just smiled his bashful smile and moved further into the room.

“This is perfect!” Freddie exclaimed. “We needed another player!”

“Well, Veronica told me over the phone that you were planning to play pool tonight, so I thought I’d come down and see if you needed a fourth,” John shrugged.

“We do!” Freddie cried, throwing an arm around John’s shoulders. “Brian and I just beat Carrie and Roger, so they’re out. Now you and Brian can make up a team, and Mary and I can make up the other team.”

“Sorry,” I said quietly to Roger, as we put our pool cues back up on the rack. “I feel like I ruined the game for you.”

“Don’t be silly!” Roger exclaimed, the effects of the vodka becoming more obvious as he slurred the word “silly” a tiny bit. “You did great for a first time player.”

He wrapped his arms around me then, smiling down at me sweetly, as I in turn wound my arms around his neck. He lowered his face to mine, kissing me softly at first, then our lips parted instinctively for a deeper, more passionate kiss. It occurred to me belatedly that we were probably getting a little too familiar with each other in front of his friends, so I slowly pulled away, gazing up into his big blue eyes, as a blush gradually spread across my cheeks.

Roger cleared his throat and said, “Listen, I’m going to the bar to get another drink, do you want anything?”

I knew that I probably should have just told him no, since I was already feeling dizzy, but then I thought that perhaps if I drank a mixed drink instead of just straight shots that it wouldn’t be so bad. I asked Roger to get me a glass of orange juice to mix some of the vodka into, and he liked the idea so much that he decided to get one for himself as well. He bent down to give me one last quick kiss before leaving the poolroom for the bar.

“Something tells me Roger and Carrie aren’t going to mind sitting this one out,” Freddie said loudly to anyone who was willing to listen.

I just stuck my tongue out at Freddie in reply, and walked across the room to plop myself down on a comfy looking brown sofa while I awaited Roger’s return. Brian, I noticed, kept watching me out of the corner of his eye with a dour expression, as he racked up the balls for their next game. He really seemed to be a strange creature, I thought to myself. One minute we were all playing pool together and laughing, the next minute he was staring at me disapprovingly. I just couldn’t make any sense of it.

It didn’t take long for Roger to procure the two glasses of orange juice and pour a bit of vodka into each one. He came over and sat next to me on the sofa, our sides pressed closely together.

“Cheers,” he smiled, as we clinked our glasses in the time honored British tradition.

The two of us instantly struck up a conversation as we watched the others start up the next round of pool across the room.

“So, tell me more about these band mates of yours,” I said, taking a long swig of my vodka and juice.

“Oh Lord, that could take a while,” Roger teased. “How much time have you got?”

“Who have you known the longest?” I asked with a laugh.

“That would be Brian,” Roger answered. “We met through a friend of mine in college, and formed a band called Smile with another fella named Tim.”

As moody as Brian generally seemed to be, I found it a bit ironic that he was in a band with such a happy-go-lucky sounding name as Smile.

“So what was going on with Brian last week at Freddie’s?” I asked, hoping that it didn’t seem like I was prying. “Why was everyone treating him with kid gloves?”

“Oh, that,” Roger replied. “Well, he had just broken up with his long time girlfriend, Chrissy, about a week before, and it was the first time we’d really seen him since it happened. Freddie planned the little get together as a way of trying to drag him out of his state of self-pity.”

Ah, now things were making more sense, I thought to myself. I supposed I could forgive his moodiness if he’d just gone through a bad break-up.

“So what about Freddie? What’s the story with him?” I asked. “Is he originally from England?”

“You know, I don’t really know all the details about Freddie’s youth. He doesn’t talk about it much,” Roger said. “All I know is that he’s Persian, he was born in Zanzibar, and he went to school in India before his family moved to England when he was a teenager.”

“Wow,” I said, my eyebrows shooting upwards with surprise. “Sounds like he’s led quite a life! So what about John?”

“John’s very quiet and shy, as you might have guessed,” Roger explained. “We’ve only known him for a couple of years, and you rarely find him without his girlfriend, Veronica. In fact, I’m quite shocked that he turned up here tonight all by himself.”

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Freddie waving frantically, trying to get our attention from the other side of the room. Roger and I both looked over to see him standing behind Brian, who was leaning across the table concentrating heavily on the shot he was trying to make. Freddie put a finger to his lips in an attempt to tell us to be quiet, then took the end of his pool cue and jabbed Brian’s ass with it right as Brian pulled his cue back to make his shot. The shot went wild, and Brian was obviously none too pleased.

“God damn it Freddie!” Brian shouted, reaching back to rub the left side of his rear. “John and I get a free shot now just for that!”

Freddie completely feigned innocence, clutching a hand to his chest and pretending to be genuinely shocked that Brian would accuse him of any wrongdoing. Of course, as soon as Brian leaned cautiously over the table again, Freddie doubled over with laughter behind his back.

Although I felt a little sorry for Brian, I couldn’t help but laugh at Freddie’s antics, and Roger was already clutching his sides, asking me, “Did you see the look on Brian’s face??” 

He had a ridiculously adorable laugh, and the harder he laughed, the harder I found myself laughing. Roger’s childlike zeal was positively contagious. Freddie had been right. I was having far more fun just sitting and chatting with Roger than I would have had if I’d actually been playing with the others. Then again, pool wasn’t exactly my thing.

Roger and I downed the rest of our drinks, and he went back to the bar to buy a couple glasses of Coke, which he proceeded to pour some of the whiskey into. He brought the drinks over to the couch and handed me one as he sat back down. I was expecting it to taste awful, but really, it wasn’t that bad. Of course, I was getting pretty drunk by that point, so my ability to reason and make informed decisions was more than a bit compromised.

“So tell me more about life in California,” Roger said, as he shifted his body around to face me better. He propped his elbow against the back of the couch and leaned the side of his face against his hand as he took a long sip of his drink. Every word that was leaving our lips was so slurred by that point that it was a miracle we could understand each other at all.

“What do you want to know?” I asked, finding it difficult to think.

“Tell me about Fresno. What’s Fresno famous for?”

“Raisins,” I said flatly.

Roger, in his slightly drunken stupor, thought this was hilarious.

“No seriously,” he said.

“I am serious,” I laughed. “Fresno is the raisin capital of the world.”

“Why raisins?” Roger asked, looking at me slightly bleary eyed.

“I don’t know,” I shrugged. “Some guy named Kearney figured out that grapes grow really well in Central California, and since we also have ridiculously hot weather there, it’s the perfect breeding ground for drying raisins. So now we supply the world with millions of the shriveled little things.”

It wasn’t the most accurate history of Fresno County, but considering how drunk I was, I thought the fact that I’d even remembered Theo Kearney’s name was impressive.

“Do you like raisins?” Roger asked.

“God no. I can’t stand ‘em,” I replied. “In fact, if I hear about one more person refer to them as nature’s candy, I’m liable to punch them.”

Roger had just taken a sip of his whiskey and Coke, and snorted with laughter at my comment. He wound up spitting half of it down the front of his shirt, which, in my inebriated state, seemed much funnier than it should have.

There happened to be a napkin sitting on a nearby table, so I set down my drink and snatched it up, leaning over to swipe drunkenly at Roger’s shirt as we continued to laugh. Once I determined that Roger’s shirt was as dry as I was going to get it, I tossed the napkin aside, and picked up my drink long enough to take a nice long swig. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that Freddie was waving his hands trying to get someone’s attention again. This time it was Brian and John. He held his hand up to his mouth and tossed his head back like he was downing a shot of alcohol, and then motioned his thumb over his shoulder at Roger and me, declaring to the others that Roger and I were completely plastered. John just laughed and shook his head, but Brian looked at me with concern, his eyebrows drawn together over his eyes. Although I registered the looks on all their faces, particularly Brian’s look of dismay, I somehow couldn’t bring myself to care. It was the first time I’d ever been thoroughly and completely drunk, and I’d never felt so relaxed and happy before in my life. All of my worries and fears just seemed to disappear with every sip of alcohol that I consumed.

I gazed at Roger, who in turn was looking at me with a sleepy eyed, slightly dopey expression, and he looked so sexy, that I just had to kiss him. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Drunk or not, he knew exactly what I was after, and wasted no time in giving it to me. The world spun wildly as he pushed me gently back onto the couch, my hands tangled in his hair, the taste of whiskey and Coke mingling on our tongues.

The noise around me seemed suddenly amplified, and despite the fog clouding my head, I could still hear most of the others’ conversation.

“Forget pool. It’s going to be much more fun to watch them,” Freddie said, leaning on his pool cue as he watched every move that Roger and I made. “I say we place bets on how soon their clothing comes off.”

“This is ridiculous,” Brian grumbled. “Roger’s got her so wasted, she doesn’t even know what she’s doing.”

“Are you joking?” Freddie scoffed. “She’s dying for Roger to fuck her. It was written all over her face the first day they met each other. I say let them have at it.”

“No, I’m walking them home,” Brian said, setting down his pool cue.

“We’re in the middle of a game!” Freddie protested. “And Roger told me Carrie doesn’t live around here. She’s over by Covent Garden.”

“Then I’ll take them back to my place,” Brian said, gathering up his coat. “They can sleep it off there and go home in the morning.”

Freddie set down his pool cue and reached out to grab Brian’s arm.

“Brian, she fancies Roger,” Freddie said, lowering his voice.

“I know,” Brian replied, his brows furrowed.

“Then stop trying to rescue her. She’s a big girl.”

“She’s also being a very foolish girl at the moment. You think she’ll be happy in the morning when she realizes that she embarrassed herself in front of all of us in a public place?” Brian argued. “How do you think she’ll feel about Roger then considering he’s the one that got her in this state in the first place?”

“He didn’t exactly force her to get drunk,” Freddie drawled. “And why do you care so much anyway?”

“I’m just trying to be a friend, that’s all,” Brian said. “You know how thoughtless Roger can be.”

“Why don’t you just admit that you like her?” Freddie wheedled.

Brian planted his hands firmly on his hips and shook his head, trying to avoid Freddie’s question.

“Roger’s already got his hands inside of her jumper,” he told Freddie irritably. “Would you like them to go further?”

Freddie just stared at Brian, waiting impatiently for an answer to his question.

Brian raked a hand through his thick curls, let out a sigh, and quietly admitted, “Fine, I like her, okay?”


	8. Chapter 8

I woke up the next morning and realized that I had no idea where I was. I sat up in a strange bed to get a better look at my surroundings, and it felt as though someone was pounding on the inside of my skull with a sledgehammer. I instantly fell back onto the pillow, grabbed my head, and tried to think. What had I been doing the night before?

I remembered playing pool with the guys at a pub and drinking too much. Way, _way_ , too much.

“Oh my God,” I mumbled. What had I been thinking?

I slowly turned my head trying to figure out where I was, and if anyone was with me. I was laying in a double sized bed with white sheets and a dark blue blanket, and thankfully, found myself alone. I was still wearing the clothes that I’d had on the night before, but my shoes were off.

Scattered around the walls of the room were rock ‘n’ roll posters of every shape and size including The Beatles, Led Zeppelin and Jimi Hendrix. There was a small dresser against one wall, and a wooden chair on the other sitting next to a large Vox amplifier and a red and black guitar on a stand. Was I at Roger’s? I wondered. He had mentioned to me at one point that he played guitar as well as drums.

Directly in front of me was a door that was wide open, leading into another room. I realized that hushed voices were coming from that room, so I carefully sat up in order to hear them better. My stomach flopped over with the motion, and I thought for a moment that I was going to throw up on the scuffed and scarred wood floor beneath my feet.

“Okay, so I screwed up. Thanks for bringing it to my attention, Dad.”

There was no mistaking Roger’s voice, even as befuddled as my brain was.

“I’m not trying to nag you, Rog, but… It’s just that Carrie seems different than the other girls you’ve gone out with. You know? She’s obviously not a party girl, she doesn’t sleep around, and I can tell that she takes her studies at university very seriously.”

That sounded like Brian.

“You’re right. She’s way too good for the likes of me,” Roger said in a snarky tone. “You’d better take her off my hands I guess.”

“You know what, you’re hung over. I’m not even going to dignify that with a response. Just drink your coffee.”

“You think I haven’t seen the way you look at her?” Roger asked quietly.

“Rog, it’s not like that, okay?” Brian said.

I could hear the faint sounds of dishes clinking in a sink as a faucet turned on for a moment then back off again.

“What do you want me to say?” Brian continued on with a sigh. “Do you want me to say that I think she’s pretty? Of course she’s pretty. I’d have to be blind not to notice that. But I’m not after your girlfriend. It’s obvious that she really likes you, and that you like her. So all I’m saying is just be careful. Take things slow.”

Before Roger could say anything in reply, I thought I’d better make it known that I was now awake and able to hear their conversation. I got up and shuffled into the other room, wishing that I could have looked in a mirror first to see what the damage was from the night before. Then again, maybe it was better that I didn’t. I probably didn’t want to know how bad I actually looked.

When I walked in, Roger was sitting on the edge of a small grey couch, which he had clearly slept on the night before, looking down at the steaming cup of coffee in his hands, his elbows propped on his knees. He didn’t look nearly as bad as I felt. His clothes were rumpled from sleeping in them and his hair looked a little messier than usual, but other than that, he was my same old Rog.

Brian, I noticed, was wearing the same clothes as the night before as well. There were blankets and a pillow on the floor in front of the couch, where I assumed that he must have slept. But then it occurred to me, if we were at Roger’s, then why was Brian even there? Unless…

Good God. Was it Brian’s bed I woke up in?

“Ah, good morning,” Brian said. He was standing behind a tiny kitchen counter that had an equally tiny kitchen table on the other side of it. The couch, a chair, a couple of bookshelves and a small TV all filled up the rest of the room.

At the sound of Brian’s voice, Roger looked up at me and smiled. “Morning,” he said.

“Morning,” I replied. “Where, um, where am I exactly?”

“I’m sorry,” Brian apologized. “Don’t you remember? This is my place. You and Roger were a little… Well, a little pissed last night. So I walked you both to my place so you could sleep it off.”

“Oh. That was nice of you, thanks,” I said. “You didn’t have to put me in your bed though. I could have slept on the floor.”

“No, no, I wouldn’t hear of it,” Brian said. “Would you like some coffee?”

“Coffee sounds great,” I replied.

“How do you take it?”

“Um, a little cream if you’ve got it. Otherwise black is fine,” I answered.

Roger moved over slightly on the couch and motioned for me to sit down next to him. I gratefully took him up on his offer, feeling like my legs were a little unstable.

“I’m really sorry about last night,” Roger began in a quiet voice. “I know you’re probably not much of a drinker. I honestly don’t know what I was thinking. If I ever do something stupid, or start going too far for you…”

“Roger, it’s okay,” I said, placing a hand on his leg. “I honestly had fun last night. Well, what I can remember of last night. This is just the first time that I’ve ever gotten drunk, so it’s kind of unfamiliar territory. I’d always heard that hangovers were a drag, but I had no idea that my head would feel like it was being squeezed by a vice…”

I reached up to rub the palm of my hand across my forehead, and Roger gave me a guilt-ridden look.

“But don’t worry,” I quickly went on. “I’m going to be okay, I promise. As soon as I get home and take some aspirin I’m sure I’ll feel as good as new.”

“I just feel bad…” Roger continued, looking down at his coffee.

I reached over and gently tilted Roger’s chin up so that he looked at me.

“Sweetie, I’m fine,” I said. The reality was that I felt like shit, but I didn’t want to make Roger feel any worse than he already did.

A crooked smile played across Roger’s lips and he looked down at the floor.

“What?” I asked.

“You called me sweetie,” he said, looking back up at me with a sparkle in his eyes.

“Too soon for pet names?” I asked, wrinkling my nose slightly.

“No, although I might prefer honey, or baby,” he admitted.

“Duly noted,” I chuckled.

Brian walked over with my cup of coffee, and then sat down in the chair near the end of the couch. I thanked him again for being so kind, and took a nice long sip of the steaming hot beverage.

“Ah, the nectar of the Gods,” I breathed. Never before had a cup of coffee been so welcome. It not only warmed my body and cleared my head, but somehow it seemed to wash away a bit of all the strangeness of the night before as well. Not to mention the thought of waking up in Brian’s bed. That had certainly been a shock, and I couldn’t seem to get the thought out of my head. I wasn’t quite sure why it bothered me so much, really, I mean, it wasn’t as if Brian was in the bed with me when I woke up. But then, it was his personal space. It was where he slept every night, possibly naked for all I knew, and where he did God knows what with God knows whom.

I quickly shook those images from my head.

The real issue, I supposed, was that sleeping in the same spot where Brian slept just seemed, intimate, somehow. And then I remembered the smell of almonds. His pillow, I realized, had smelled like almonds when I woke up. This puzzled me exceedingly. I didn’t know of a single soap or detergent that smelled like almonds, and couldn’t think for the life of me why that would have been the first thing that I smelled when I woke up.

I took a sip of coffee and put such bizarre thoughts out of my head as best I could while Roger, Brian and I sat around talking for a bit. We joked around about playing pool the night before and laughed about some of the things that happened during the fashion show, and then I mostly listened as Roger and Brian started discussing the upcoming gig at the King’s College Hospital campus, the very concert that Annie and I had tickets for. It seemed strange to think that in such a short period of time I had gone from being nothing more than a future spectator at a Queen show to actually knowing the band fairly intimately. I would have never imagined in my wildest dreams when Annie showed me the flier in her purse, that I would one day be making out with the drummer of the band and waking up in the guitarist’s bed. My life was suddenly heading in a very new and unexpected direction. If only my parents could have seen me in that moment, I thought, waking up with a hangover in a strange flat with two men. The mental image of their horrified faces made my mouth curl into an impish grin, and I had to stifle a laugh.

After a while I told Roger and Brian that I really needed to get home. I knew that I had homework that had to be done before the next day, and there was a box of cereal and a carton of milk in my kitchen that was starting to sound very tempting. I was hungry and tired, and just needed some time alone to sort out the strange twists and turns that my life was suddenly taking.

Thankfully, Brian offered to give both of us a lift home. Roger and I got our shoes on, gathered our things, and the three of us piled into Brian’s car, which turned out to be a light green Mini, and set off. He dropped Roger off first, since he was closest, and even though I didn’t get to go inside, I at least had a better idea of where Roger lived. I’d seen the outside of his building the night before when we’d dropped off his car after the fashion show, but it had been dark, and I couldn’t see the place very well. Now in the morning light, I could see that Roger lived in a multi-storied white stone building with a wooden door on the ground floor that contained six small panes of glass. As ridiculous as it sounds, just knowing where Roger lived, and being able to call to mind the image of his building any time I wanted, made my heart fill with joy. It reminded me very much of one of my favorite scenes from _My Fair Lady_ , where the character of Freddy Eynsford-Hill discovers the residence of Eliza Doolittle and declares in song, _“All at once am I several stories high, knowing I’m on the street where you live.”_

Roger got out of the car and gave me a quick kiss goodbye, and Brian and I watched as he went through the downstairs door leading to his staircase. It was becoming more and more heart wrenching every time I had to say goodbye to him.

I told Brian where I lived and he set off in the direction of my flat, neither of us saying much until he turned down Henrietta Street.

“This is nice,” he said casually, looking around at the various flats and shop fronts on my street.

“Thanks,” I said quietly. “I live at number 25, just over there.”

I pointed to the left toward my building, and thankfully there was a place for Brian to park. We pulled up and I gathered my things. Brian, being ever the gentleman, offered to walk me to my door, but I told him I’d be fine.

“I’m sorry if things were a little weird for you waking up at my place this morning,” Brian said softly.

“Oh, no, it’s fine,” I said. “It really was kind of you to look after Roger and me.”

“Well, Roger can pretty much take care of himself,” he shrugged. “It was you that I was worried about.”

I couldn’t help but look at him with surprise. It was obvious by the way he was suddenly avoiding eye contact with me that he hadn’t meant to say what he’d said.

So, he’d been worried about me, had he? I found myself having flashbacks of Freddie accusing Brian of “fancying” me, and of Brian telling Roger that he thought I was pretty that very morning. I looked down at my lap, blushing a little, unsure of what to say in return.

“I mean, I know you’re probably not completely familiar with London streets yet,” Brian explained quickly. “And since both you and Roger had been drinking, I thought that someone should make sure that you got home okay.”

“Well, it’s true that I’ve never had that much to drink before,” I agreed, pretending that nothing strange or awkward had just happened, but then a sudden thought occurred to me. If I couldn’t remember walking to Brian’s the night before, what else couldn’t I remember? I looked at Brian with a worried crease between my brows and slowly asked, “I didn’t do anything too stupid last night, did I?”

“You behaved like a perfect lady all night,” Brian assured me.

“Well, that’s a relief,” I sighed. “And, how exactly did I end up in your bed again?”

Brian looked at me a little sheepishly and said, “Well, you sort of passed out on my sofa with Roger, and you looked really uncomfortable, so, I took off your shoes and moved you to my bed.”

I felt like asking how, exactly, he’d moved me to his bed, but then I thought better of it. Images of Fay Wray draped languidly in King Kong’s arms flashed through my overly active imagination, and I wasn’t quite sure if I was ready to tackle the thought of being carried like a damsel in distress by Brian to his bedroom. If, indeed, that was how it had transpired.

I thought back, trying in vain to remember anything that had happened at the pub after telling Roger about Fresno being famous for growing raisins, but couldn’t. Everything was just a blur. It was a very unsettling feeling to know that I’d been walking, talking, and doing things that I had no recollection of whatsoever.

I shook my head and said, “God, I can’t believe that I don’t remember going to your place last night. I don’t even remember leaving the pub.”

“Well, you were pretty out of it,” Brian sympathized.

I nodded my agreement, and the two of us sat quietly for a moment, smiling awkwardly at one another, looking desperately for something more to say. As strange as it had been waking up in his bed that morning, I had to admit, as I sat looking into his kind hazel eyes, that Brian really was a very sweet guy. Nobody else had been worried about whether or not I got home safely the night before, that was for sure.

“Thanks for looking after me, Brian,” I said at last. It sounded a bit feeble, but I didn’t know what more I could say to express my gratitude. “Well, I guess I’d better get upstairs and get something to eat.”

“Right, of course,” Brian said. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

“I will,” I smiled, and got out of the car.

I looked back and gave him one last wave before I went through the door that led upstairs to my flat. Once I was back inside my own place, I set down my things and headed straight for my kitchen cupboards and my waiting box of cereal. It felt good to be back in the familiar, comforting surroundings of home. I fished out a bowl from the cupboard, a spoon from the drawer, and the milk from the fridge. I poured myself a bowl of cereal and leaned back against my kitchen counter as I ate, my thoughts immediately drifting to the Kensington Pub the night before and the amount of alcohol I’d consumed. I winced at the thought. I’d never done anything so crazy back home. One or two drinks had always been my limit. And forget about making out with drummers in storage rooms and pool halls!

I set my bowl down for a moment on the kitchen counter behind me and let out a small laugh, rubbing my hands over my tired, bleary eyes. Despite the fact that I’d allowed myself to get a little out of control the night before, I had had a lot of fun, there was no denying it. Being around someone like Roger made me feel alive, which was a sensation that had clearly been lacking in my life, though I hadn’t known it. I couldn’t help but wonder what further insanity could possibly be in store for me now that I’d befriended the members of Queen.


	9. Chapter 9

The following week was relatively uneventful, with school and homework taking up much of my time. Roger called me nearly everyday and regaled me with stories of how the band’s rehearsals were going in preparation for their upcoming concert. I had never been so excited over the prospect of seeing a band play live before in my life. Roger asked me if I wanted to go watch them set-up for the show, which, of course, I instantly said yes to, and we agreed that he would come by my flat to pick me up Friday afternoon after I was finished with school.

When I told Annie that I was going to be watching the band set-up, however, she was less than enthusiastic. It hadn’t occurred to me as I was making plans with Roger that Annie was the one who had bought the tickets for me in the first place, and that I probably should have given the fact that she wasn’t invited to the pre-show set-up a little more consideration. After all, the plan all along was for Annie and me to go to the concert together as an early birthday present for me, and even though we’d still be sitting and watching the show together, we would now be meeting each other there and most likely leaving separately. I doubted that that was quite was she’d had in mind for our fun night out. I was starting to feel like a pretty selfish friend.

Then again, I suppose it wasn’t any worse than her leaving me high and dry after the fashion show. At least I wasn’t blowing her off for guys that I’d just met. I was blowing her off for the man that I loved. And there was no denying the fact that I was most definitely in love with Roger Taylor. I spent every hour of everyday thinking about him; the way his blue eyes sparkled when he smiled, the sound of his laugh, how soft and warm his lips felt when he kissed me…

The only thing that I couldn’t bear to think about was the future, and what would happen when I was finished with my year and a half program at King’s College and had to go back to the States again. I didn’t know how I would ever survive not being able to see Roger whenever I wanted to. Falling in love with someone in England had definitely not been part of my plans.

I put such depressing thoughts out of my head, and spent my entire Friday morning at school barely able to think about anything at all. Well, anything related to the 19th century anyway. I was just too excited about finally getting to see Queen play live.

I had just finished my last class and was heading down the large stone staircase into the entrance hall of King’s College, when I noticed a shaggy blonde head waiting for me. He was standing in the middle of the hall with an impish grin on his face and one hand in his pocket while the other was stashed away behind his back. My face lit up as I met his eyes, and I nearly tripped trying to hurry down the last few steps.

“What are you doing here?” I asked excitedly. “How did you know when I would be getting out of class or where I would be?”

“You’ve mentioned in passing once or twice when your classes end,” Roger smiled.

I was completely stunned that he’d actually paid attention to my class schedule!

“Here, I brought something for you.” Roger went on, pulling his hand out from behind his back and thrusting a beautiful bouquet of bright yellow daffodils at me.

“Oh my God! They’re beautiful!” I gasped, taking them from his hand.

“They’re all over London this time of year,” Roger shrugged. “I thought you might like them.”

“I love them!” I said, reaching up to give him a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Are you ready to hang out at the concert hall for a bit while we set up?” Roger asked.

“Um, well…” I hesitated, looking down at my boring sweater and wool skirt. “I’m not really dressed for the concert tonight. Will there be enough time for me to change at some point?”

“Let’s see,” said Roger, checking his watch. “John Harris, our roadie, is supposed to have our equipment at the venue by 4:00, and it’s 3:00 now, so we should have time to swing by your place if you want. I just have to make sure I’m there at 4:00 because my kit takes the most time to set up.”

“No problem,” I said. “I can be ready in half that time.”

Thankfully I had thought ahead the night before and straightened up my place. And I had even made my bed that morning! Apparently there was a first time for everything.

It only took a few minutes to reach my flat, and of course, the first thing I had to do was put my beautiful daffodils in some water. Roger stood in my kitchen with a proud expression on his face as he watched me carefully arrange the flowers in a vase.

“There,” I proclaimed, once I was happy with the way they looked. “I’m going to set them right over here.”

I walked past Roger into the living room and gave the bouquet pride of place on my coffee table. Seeing as how almost everything in my living room was white, brown or beige, a little pop of yellow definitely brightened the place up.

“Okay,” I said. “Let me run in and get dressed, and we can get going.”

“Are you, um, going to wear what you wore to Freddie’s that night?” Roger asked with a hopeful look. “You know, that shirt your friend gave you.”

“I can, if you want me to,” I smiled, my ears turning a little pink around the edges.

“Well, I mean, it did look nice on you,” Roger said with a casual air, reaching into his shirt pocket to fish out his pack of cigarettes.

“Okay,” I replied with a crooked grin, happy to know that the sight of me wearing a skimpy halter-top had made such an impression. So, just to up the ante a little, I added, “Oh, and I just remembered, I bought a pair of really low-cut hip-huggers a while back. Those should go with the halter-top that Annie bought me perfectly.”

I waggled my eyebrows teasingly, and left the room with Roger staring after me, a cigarette half way to his lips.

It didn’t take me long to pull off my boots, skirt, sweater and bra, and replace them with my hip-huggers, halter-top (sans bra), and a pair of clogs. I ran into the bathroom and brushed my teeth and hair, fixed my make-up, and I was ready to go. I grabbed my denim jacket out of my closet, and noticed my camera sitting on one of the shelves. It occurred to me that I didn’t have any pictures of Roger yet, and that the guys might like some photos of themselves playing live as well, so I decided to bring it.

I wandered back into my living room to find Roger sitting on my couch smoking his cigarette and leafing through one of my textbooks.

“Well, how do I look?” I asked.

The answer was written all over Roger’s face. His eyes trailed from my face, to my chest to my bare midriff in a matter of seconds.

“Good. Y-you look good,” Roger choked out. He took one last drag off of his cigarette and went to snuff it out, almost missing the ashtray sitting on my coffee table altogether. “Are you, um, are you ready then?”

“I think so,” I replied. “Oh, and I wanted to ask you, do you mind if I bring my camera tonight and take some pictures of you guys playing live?”

“That’d be brilliant,” Roger answered. “But only if I get a picture of you wearing that in return.”

“I think that can be arranged,” I grinned.

The two of us gathered the rest of our things, and headed out into the hazy late afternoon sunshine. It was a typical Friday in London with tons of traffic, and it took us several minutes longer to get to the King’s College Hospital campus than Roger had anticipated. It was a completely different campus from the one I attended, and was much further across town. I could tell that Roger was getting impatient to arrive at our destination, and by some miracle of God, he managed to find a place to park just around the corner from the school, meaning that we wouldn’t have far to walk.

We entered the campus hand in hand, and after traipsing down seemingly endless hallways and asking a couple of medical students for directions, finally found the room where the concert was being held. Brian, John, Freddie, Mary and Veronica were already there, directing the men bringing in the equipment and helping to get everything set up. The room itself seemed relatively small and bleak to be hosting a rock concert. The walls were painted a drab nondescript white, and there were about 100 or so folding chairs set up around a center aisle facing a low, narrow stage at the far end of the room. I assumed that they weren’t expecting a terribly large crowd.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in!” Freddie called out to Roger, his voice echoing around the hollow room. He made an exaggerated show of looking down at his wristwatch, proclaiming that his tardy drummer was a whopping ten minutes late. Then, after he was done scolding Roger, he turned to me and said, “Isn’t that the same outfit you wore the night you came to my flat? Really darling, don’t you have anything else to wear?”

“If you must know, Fred, I requested that she wear it,” Roger scowled. “So keep your bloody opinions to yourself.”

“I’m sorry, Carrie,” Freddie said sarcastically. “It’s a lovely ensemble. You really should wear it more often.”

“Actually, my pants are new, so it just shows how much you know,” I retorted, making a face at Freddie.

“Pay no attention to him,” Brian said to me, picking up a guitar and stand and walking them up onto the stage. “He’s just trying to wind you up.”

Apparently that was British-speak for “he’s trying to piss you off.”

“No worries,” I said with a breezy wave of my hand. “I’m getting used to it.”

“You’d better play nice, Fred,” Roger admonished, bending over to sort through the bits and pieces of his drum set lying on the floor in front of the stage. “I don’t talk to Mary like that you know.”

“All right, all right. I’m sorry. Should we kiss and make up?” Freddie asked me with his hands outstretched.

“Don’t even think about it!” Roger shouted, standing bolt upright and dropping a cymbal stand with a loud clang.

Freddie just laughed, clearly loving the fact that he’d managed to irritate Roger, and went back to his original task of helping the guys organize the equipment.

Piece by piece they moved everything up to the stage with the help of the roadies who had brought the equipment to the campus. Every guitar, microphone and amp was put in place while Roger busily adjusted his drum kit to look and sound exactly as he wanted it.

In the meantime, I decided to take out my camera and start snapping pictures of the whole set-up process.

“What’s this?” Brian called out, smiling at me from the right side of the stage as he tuned his guitar. “Our own personal photographer?”

“Oh yeah,” Roger replied from his drum throne at the back of the stage. “Carrie is going to take some photos of us playing tonight.”

“I’d better take extra care with my hair and make up then,” Freddie said, fluffing his long black locks.

“As if that’s different from any other night,” Brian said, rolling his eyes.

Within a couple of hours all the equipment was set up, the sound checks had been done, and everything was ready to go.

“Is anybody else hungry?” Roger asked the group at large.

“I am,” John said.

“It’s a little after 6:00,” Roger went on, looking at his watch. “I parked in front of a small cafe around the corner. We have time to grab a quick bite, don’t we?”

“If we make it fast,” Freddie replied.

We all walked as a group to the cafe, ordering sandwiches, bags of chips (or crisps as I was constantly being reminded by my English comrades) and bottles of Coke. Not exactly the dinner of champions, but it would have to do. All four of the guys had their food inhaled in a matter of minutes, while Mary, Veronica and I grimaced at the few bites we’d managed to take of our sandwiches. I hadn’t even opened my bag of chips yet! When Freddie had said that they needed to eat quickly, he hadn’t been kidding.

“Well, I can take my chips and Coke with me, but I don’t know what I’m going to do with the rest of this,” I said, motioning toward my sandwich.

“I’ll take it if you’re finished,” Roger said.

“Oh, okay, sure,” I said shoving what was left of my sandwich across the table toward him. The boy definitely had an appetite that was for sure!

We were back at the campus in a little over 30 minutes, and the guys immediately headed to the dressing room backstage to get ready. Mary and Veronica, I noticed, followed them right in, but I paused at the door, unsure of what to do.

“You coming?” Roger turned and asked me.

“You guys are going to be changing, right? You don’t want me in there,” I said.

“Don’t be silly darling,” Freddie grinned, pulling his shirt off over his head. “There’s no modesty here.”

Good Lord he was hairy, I thought to myself.

“I can see that,” I said, clearing my throat.

“Come on, it’ll be fine,” Roger said, taking me by the hand and pulling me inside.

I found a chair in the corner, and pulled my chips and Coke out of my purse to give me something to focus on. I contemplated my life before meeting the members of Queen, and realized that a mere month ago I had been a good student, I rarely drank alcohol, and I had certainly never been backstage at a concert watching the band members strip down to their skivvies. I had come to England to get an education, but this wasn’t exactly what I’d had in mind.

Freddie and John were the first to get undressed, so I focused instead on Roger and Brian who were pulling their stage clothes out of duffle bags. Out of the corner of my eye I could see both Freddie and John stripped down to their tightie-whities, so I casually propped the side of my face against my hand to block the view. Before I knew it, Brian and Roger began taking their clothes off as well, and suddenly I was like a deer in headlights. There seemed to be nowhere to look! All four guys were spread around the room to the point that I was running out of places to focus my attention, so I just gazed down at the bag of chips in my lap instead. Oh look, made with real potatoes, I thought, reading the manufacturer’s declaration on the front of the bag.

Then, my traitorous eyes drifted upward, completely of their own accord. Brian was shirtless and unzipping his pants, while Roger was already stripped down to his undies. No tightie-whities for him, I noticed. Instead, he had on some sort of men’s bikini underwear with a bright blue pattern on them. Brian pulled his pants down as well, and I caught a quick glimpse of yet another pair of white undies before I quickly averted my eyes back to the bag of chips. Hmm, fried in cottonseed oil, I noted. Good to know.

I was very relieved when all four men were dressed again. I looked around to see what each of them had on, and saw that Freddie was wearing a black tank top covered by a white shirt with a black floral pattern, and unbelievably tight white pants. John had on a black silky shirt covered with a black blazer and black satin pants. Brian was also wearing a black shirt with a scooped neck and flared sleeves along with black velvet bell-bottoms, and Roger looked incredibly hot in tight black leather pants and a brightly patterned shirt that was completely unbuttoned down the front. I found myself unable to stop staring at the tanned skin peeking out through his shirt, and the little patches of hair on his chest and just below his bellybutton.

“What time is it Rog?” Brian asked.

“Er, a little after 7:00,” Roger replied, as he glanced at his watch then took it off, stuffing it into his pants pocket.

“What time are people going to start showing up?” I asked, dragging my eyes reluctantly away from Roger’s open shirt.

“Anytime, I think,” Roger answered with a slight shrug. “We go on at 8:00.”

“You know, I probably ought to get out there and grab some seats for Annie and me in the front before they’re all taken,” I said, gathering up my purse and camera.

“Oh, okay,” said Roger, looking a little disappointed that I was leaving.

“Good luck out there tonight,” I smiled, closing the distance between us. “I’ll be cheering you on.”

“Wait, before you go, can we get someone to take a photo of us?” Roger asked. “If we wait ‘til after the show I’ll be all sweaty.”

“Oh, yeah,” I said, lifting the camera strap off of my shoulder. The image of Roger being drenched in sweat swam through my head as I popped the lens cap off the camera and turned on the flash.

“Brian, you’ve got a camera like this, right?” Roger asked.

“Er, yeah,” Brian responded, taking a quick peek at my camera. “It’s just a standard 35 mm, right?”

“Yep, just focus and shoot,” I said, handing the camera over to Brian’s outstretched hands.

Roger and I stood close together, our arms around each other’s waists, smiling for the camera, and of course, as soon as Brian pressed the button, Freddie suddenly jumped in front of us.

“Damn it Fred!” Roger yelled, shoving him out of the way. John and Freddie were now in a fit of hysterics, laughing uncontrollably.

Brian just shook his head and said, “Let’s try that again.”

It took two more tries and threats of physical violence on Roger’s part, for us to finally get a Freddie-free picture. Brian decided he’d better take a couple more shots, just to be on the safe side, and snapped another two photos.

I thanked Brian for taking the pictures, took my camera back from him, and told Roger that I’d better leave them to finish getting ready. Roger bent down to give me a quick kiss, and I told him that I’d see him on stage.

When I went out to the seating area I saw several people milling around, including Annie, who was talking to a couple of guys that I recognized from school.

“Annie!” I called.

She just turned and gave me a quick wave, and went back to talking to the guys standing next to her. Judging by her lack of enthusiasm over my presence, it was clear that she was still upset with me. I set my purse and camera down on a seat in the front row, just to the right of the center of the stage, and walked over to talk to her.

“Annie,” I said, tapping her on the shoulder. “I just wanted to let you know that I’ve got two seats for us in the front row.”

“Okay,” she said flatly, giving me the briefest of glances.

It was obvious that she didn’t want to talk, so I decided that it would probably be best to just go to my seat and fiddle with my camera until the show started.

I turned to walk away, and then distinctly heard Annie whisper a snide comment to her companions about me being the girlfriend of Queen’s drummer, and that I didn’t need to pay my way into their show like everybody else did.

I froze on the spot, wheeled around and marched right back over to her.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I demanded.

“What?” she asked, feigning innocence. “It’s true. Now that you’re Roger’s girlfriend, you can see all the Queen shows that you want. Had I known sooner, I could have saved my money.”

“Oh! Is that what this is about?” I asked angrily. I shoved my hand into my left pants pocket, where I knew that I had some leftover change from the café we’d gone to earlier, and dug out a 20p coin and a 10p. I pressed them into Annie’s hand and said, “There. Now we’re square.”

“You don’t get it at all do you?” Annie shouted. The two guys that had been chatting with her decided that they didn’t want to be in the middle of a cat fight and slowly drifted away.

“What don’t I get?” I asked.

“I don’t want your damn money! I bought you the ticket for your birthday. I was looking forward to seeing this show with you, just the two of us! Now that you’ve met Roger I hardly ever see you anymore!”

I shook my head, trying to think of what to say. It was clear that she was feeling a little jealous of Roger and me, and I didn’t want that.

“Annie, if you had bought me tickets for any other band in London, then we wouldn’t be having this discussion right now, you know that,” I said, trying to get her to see reason. “Do you honestly think I expected any of this to happen? When you took me to Kensington Market that day, meeting two of the members of Queen was pretty much the furthest thing from my mind, and I sure as hell wasn’t expecting to date any of them!”

“Look, I get that,” Annie protested, “but did you have to come here early with Roger? Couldn’t we have stuck to our original plan and come here together like I wanted us to?”

“Annie, I’m sorry,” I finally said, throwing my hands in the air in defeat. “What would you do if you were in my shoes, huh? If Roger was your boyfriend, are you trying to tell me that you wouldn’t have wanted to see his band set up? You know you would, and I would understand if you did! Can’t we just agree to change our plans on this occasion and do something completely different, just the two of us, on another day?”

“I guess. Whatever you want. It’s for your birthday after all,” Annie said, shaking her head.

“Look, I’m saving you a seat down in front if you still want it,” I said, deciding that the best thing to do was to nip the entire conversation in the bud before things got any worse. I did feel bad that I’d been neglecting Annie a little since I’d met Roger, but tonight was a big night, and I wasn’t about to let Annie’s guilt trip ruin my first ever opportunity of watching Queen play live.


	10. Chapter 10

The concert was amazing. Queen roared out onto the small stage with a song called _Son & Daughter_ followed up with another called _Great King Rat_. They slowed things down a bit after that for their songs _Jesus_ and _The Night Comes Down_ , and then rocked out again for _Liar_ and _Keep Yourself Alive_. They were unlike any group I’d ever heard, and their talent was immediately apparent. Freddie romped around on stage with his microphone stand while Brian continuously paced from one side of the stage to the other, showing off his mad guitar skills. John, not unexpectedly, stood relatively still while he played and never sang, but Roger, of course, was the one that I couldn’t take my eyes off of.

I had never seen the man look so sexy. Every muscle in his body was taught as he invariably pounded and caressed his drums. His facial expressions changed from soft and sweet one minute to manic rock ‘n’ roller the next. His hands flew across his kit with a precision that left no one in the audience in any doubt of his abilities.

About halfway through the set he stood up and took his shirt the rest of the way off, sweat glistening on his body, hair plastered to his face. I was a goner. I had never wanted to rip the clothes off of someone so badly in my entire life. I decided then and there that I had to have him to myself that night. Somehow after the show we had to be alone.

The group finished their 11 song set with a couple of old 50s rock ‘n’ roll favorites, driving the crowd into a frenzy. Everyone was on their feet clapping and singing along and begging for more when the show was over. All four of the guys came to the front of the stage to take a bow, Roger sending me a wink and a smile and motioning his head towards the back of the stage in an attempt to tell me to meet him in the dressing room. He didn’t have to tell me twice.

Once the guys left the stage I scrambled to gather up my camera, purse and jacket from under my seat. Just as I was about to leave, Annie, who had decided to sit next to me despite our differences, put a hand on my arm, preventing me from rushing away.

“What did you think?” Annie asked me a little sheepishly.

My brows drew together in a puzzled look.

“About the show?” she added.

This was why she was waylaying me? She wanted to talk about the show? Now?! Wasn’t this something that we could cover in a phone call later on? I was worried that if I didn’t hurry backstage that Roger might have a chance to wipe away all of that glorious sweat before I could get there!

“It was great,” I said quickly. “I thought they were amazing.”

“Look, I’m really sorry,” Annie said then, grasping my arm even tighter. “About the way I’ve been acting, I mean.”

Now she was going to apologize? For God’s sake woman, couldn’t we do this later?? I wanted to scream.

“After watching that drummer of yours on stage tonight, I completely understand why you’ve been spending so much time with him,” Annie continued, giving me a knowing wink.

I was going to kill her. If she didn’t let go of me and stop talking about how hot she suddenly thought my boyfriend was, the police were going to find her body in the Thames by the next morning.

“Yeah, speaking of Roger,” I said quietly, trying to maintain a calm demeanor, “he’s actually waiting for me backstage, so…”

“Oh my God, of course! I’m so sorry, go. Go,” Annie insisted releasing my arm and waving me away.

“We’ll talk later,” I said, standing up and backing away from her before she could accost me again.

She gave me a thumbs-up, and I ran as fast as my clogs could carry me to the backstage door.

When I got there the door was already slightly ajar, so I just pushed it the rest of the way open. Directly in front of me was Roger with his back to me, laughing with the guys and talking about the show, and thankfully, still very sweaty.

Freddie saw me come in and nodded to Roger to turn around.

“Oh, there you are!” Roger smiled. “Did you like the…”

Before he could say another word I dropped my things onto a chair by the door, and threw my arms around him, damn near knocking him over trying to get to those soft, pouty lips.

His eyes flew open in surprise at first, but then he relaxed, grabbing me around the waist and pulling me in for a long, deep kiss. He was wet and sticky and smelled every bit like the sexy rock ‘n’ roll God that he was. Every eye in the room was glued to us. Freddie and John were whistling and taunting, but I didn’t care. My arms were wrapped around the sexiest man I’d ever laid eyes on, and he was going to be mine that night.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” Roger gasped, coming up for air.

“Watching you play the drums tonight was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” I breathed.

“Really?” he asked with an arched brow and a crooked grin.

“Really,” I nodded. “Is there anyway we can go somewhere… Alone?”

“Brian, I’ll give you twenty quid if you’ll pack my drums up tonight,” Roger said quickly, turning to his friend.

“You don’t have twenty quid,” Brian reminded him, as he packed his stage clothes back inside of his duffle bag. “As it is, you already owe me five.”

“Come on man, I swear to God I’ll make it up to you!” Roger pleaded.

Brian paused in his packing and glanced over at me with what felt like a look of mixed frustration and disappointment.

“Just go,” Brian said dismissively.

“Roger’s going to de-flower a virgin tonight everyone! I think that deserves a round of drinks!” Freddie shouted, clapping his hands together excitedly.

Roger sprang into action, grabbing the shirt that he’d worn earlier that day, throwing it on over his head. He patted his pocket to make sure his cigarettes and lighter were still safe and sound, grabbed his wallet and keys out of his other pants pocket, and told me, “Let’s go.”

I snatched up my purse and camera off the chair as Roger grabbed my free hand and led me out the door. We left to a resounding chorus of “Roger’s going to de-flower a virgin! Roger’s going to deflower a virgin!” conducted by Freddie.

Brian, I noticed, just quietly continued to gather up his things.

The drive to Roger’s flat seemed to take forever. We were both remarkably quiet, our only communication being a few knowing looks and smiles every time we stopped at a red light. Roger zipped around other cars at a break neck speed, and I was starting to pray that we made it to his flat at all.

At last he pulled up in front of his building, threw the car into neutral, turned off the engine and pulled the brake.

“Stay right there,” he told me, and got out of the car.

He came around to the passenger side and opened the door for me, helping me grab up my purse and camera, and led me to the door leading up to his flat. Once inside he took the stairs two at a time, which I found to be rather difficult in my clogs. I reached down and pulled the offending shoes off of my feet, and followed Roger as quickly as I could. Thankfully his flat was only on the second floor, so we didn’t have to go far.

Roger shoved the key into the lock of his front door, swearing under his breath when it wouldn’t unlock on the first try. Finally the door sprang open into a dark and quiet room as he fumbled for the light switch, which illuminated a small table lamp. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed me as we both stumbled through the door of his flat. I tossed my shoes, camera and purse on the floor, and Roger struggled to close and lock the door as we continued to devour each other’s mouths with a desperate need that neither of us could contain.

We parted long enough for Roger to tear his shirt off over his head, throwing it onto the back of a chair near the door. He pressed my back against his front door, his blue eyes hungry with desire, as his lips sought mine again before trailing down my neck to my breasts, which were heaving under my halter-top as I tried to catch my breath. He reached for the bottom of my shirt and peeled it up over my head, tossing it alongside his on the chair.

We wrapped our arms around each other, our tongues plunging into each other’s mouths, our bare chests pressed together as we moved slowly across the room to a small bed sitting against the wall. We collapsed onto the bed in a tangled heap, our legs wrapped tightly around each other’s, as our fingers twined in each other’s hair. I could feel through his leather pants pressing against my thigh that he was already hard, and although he didn’t know it yet, I was completely soaked and aching for his touch.

He lowered his head to my breasts, taking each one in his mouth in turn, sucking and teasing my nipples until they were hard. He reached for my pants with his right hand, skillfully unbuttoning and unzipping them, as he thrust his hand inside. He stroked and teased me with his fingers, plunging them deep inside me until I whimpered and cried at his touch. I found myself trembling slightly, knowing that this was it, the time had come and I was finally going to have sex with someone. And not with just anyone, but a gorgeous, talented, sexy English rock God. How the hell had this happened to a backwater girl like me? I wondered.

“Oh fuck,” Roger breathed, slowly removing his hand from my pants as he looked down at me through heavily lidded eyes. “I’ve got to have you…”

He stood up suddenly to unfasten his pants, and I watched in fascination as I learned exactly where the little patch of hair under his bellybutton led. He was hard and ready and gorgeous, and I was turning into a quivering mass of jelly just looking at him. He reached out to grab the waistband of my pants and panties then, and pulled them the rest of the way down my legs, exposing my naked body in its entirety to his hungry, desirous eyes.

He lowered himself on top of me, finding my mouth with his, and spread my legs further apart with his knees. I felt him enter me, slowly at first so that I wouldn’t experience too much pain, his hips gently rocking back and forth in perfect rhythm. I wasn’t quite sure what I’d been expecting, but I’d definitely been expecting a lot more pain, which was likely the product of reading too many romance novels. Instead, I felt nothing but pure pleasure, as Roger continued to move inside of me, a little faster with every stroke.

I wrapped my legs around his body, tilting my hips so that he could push deeper inside of me. He knew then that the danger of my being in pain had subsided as he moved faster and harder, making me cry out with the kind of pleasure that I never knew I could experience. I could feel every muscle in his back rippling beneath my fingers and the sweat beading on his skin as I clung on to him for dear life.

He bent his head down over mine for a hungry kiss, our bodies moving in unison, as we whimpered and moaned into each other’s mouths. He tore his lips away from mine, his face hovering mere inches above my own, as I reveled in the sensation of our hot sweaty bodies being pressed together. I looked up at him then, his face barely visible in the dim lighting of his flat. His pouty lips were parted and gasping for air, his sweaty hair plastered to his face as he let out a low groan, thrusting deeper and harder inside of me. The knowledge that I was sharing my first time with him, and seeing the pleasure it was giving him sent me completely over the edge, and I could suddenly feel my release coming on strong.

“Roger! Oh God, Roger!” I moaned, digging my fingernails into his back, trying to hang on as wave after wave of pleasure rolled over me.

“Oh, fuck yes…” he whispered as he pushed inside of me one last time. He let out a series of groans as he came deep inside of me, collapsing in a sticky sweaty heap on top of me. The two of us lay there, gasping for air, not wanting to move, every muscle tired and sore.

“Oh my God,” I breathed, reaching up to wipe the hair back from my forehead. “When can we do that again?”

Roger laughed a deep throaty laugh, his head resting between my breasts.

“You’ll have to at least let me catch my breath,” he teased. He propped himself up on one elbow, looked down at me through his heavily lidded eyes, and asked, “Was it worth the wait?”

I smiled up at him, still trying to catch my breath, and said, “ _So_ worth the wait.”

“And that wasn’t even my best,” he joked.

“You mean it’s going to get better?” I asked innocently, mouth slightly ajar.

“Um-hmm,” he mumbled, kissing the nape of my neck. “We barely got to have any foreplay this time around.”

He kissed lower, finding my breasts with his mouth, kissing and licking each nipple until I felt like I was going to come all over again.

“If you keep doing that, our second time is going to have to happen much sooner than later,” I sighed, running my hands through his long blonde hair.

He just laughed, and said that he needed a cigarette first. He got up and walked across the room to his shirt hanging across the back of the chair, pulled his cigarettes out of the pocket and lit one up. Watching his adorable tight ass as he walked away just made me want him again all the more.

He came back to the bed and lay beside me, propping himself up on one elbow. He reached over to a small bedside table and slid an ashtray closer so that it was within reach. He looked down at me and held out his cigarette half jokingly, offering me a drag if I wanted it. It had been a while since I’d smoked, and I’d never been much of a smoker in the first place, but I had to admit that somehow, sucking smoke into one’s lungs after just having incredible sex seemed to feel right.

I took the offered cigarette, much to Roger’s surprise and took a long drag, inhaling the smoke deeply into my lungs. It made my head feel light and dizzy and wonderful, and best of all, it tasted like Roger.

“Where did you learn to smoke like that?” he asked, a half smile playing around his lips.

“I’ve smoked before,” I grinned, turning my head away slightly to exhale.

“Well you’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” he laughed, giving me a quick kiss.

His mood changed slightly then, and he suddenly became very quiet.

“Can I ask you something?” he said at last, taking another drag off of his cigarette.

I could see the crease beginning to form between his eyebrows.

“Of course,” I said. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s just that, well, we sort of let our feelings run away with us just now, and, I’m wondering… Well, I’m a bit concerned that we didn’t use any kind of birth control…”

“Oh, I’m on the pill,” I said quickly, hoping that it would ease his worries. “I have been for a while.”

Relief flooded Roger’s face, as he let his breath out in one long rush of air.

“Oh thank God,” he said. “I knew there was a reason why I loved you so much.”

My ears perked up as if a dog whistle had just been blown.

“I’m sorry, what was that again?” I asked.

“What? Er, I dunno. What did I just say?”

“Oh no you don’t. You can’t drop the ‘L’ word and then pretend it didn’t happen!” I exclaimed.

“’L’ word. ‘L’ word,” he teased, trying look thoughtful as he scratched his chin. “Lion? Lily? Lunatic?”

I just glared at him through narrowed eyes and he laughed.

“Okay. Okay,” he said, casually running a finger along my left arm. “Do you want to know when I realized I was in love with you?”

“When?” I smiled, feeling like my heart might burst at any moment.

“When that silly crinoline of yours popped up in the air in the storage room at Kensington Market,” he laughed.

“Oh God!” I exclaimed. I covered my face with my hands, feeling absolutely mortified.

“No, don’t be embarrassed, it was funny!” he said, pulling my hands from my face.

“You want to know when I first fell in love with you?” I asked, gazing up into his mischievous blue eyes.

“Go on, when?”

“When you walked into your stall at Kensington Market, and you’d spilled half of Freddie’s tea down the front of you,” I grinned.

“Oh God, now _that_ is embarrassing! Sadly, that sort of thing happens quite a lot,” Roger informed me. “Hang on though, that was the very first day we met.”

“I know,” I said quietly.

“Are you saying that you fell in love with me the first day we met?” Roger asked incredulously. “You didn’t know anything about me!”

“What did I need to know?” I shrugged. “You were gorgeous. You were sweet and seemed a little shy when you first talked to me. You were funny. You were the whole package. Add to that the title of world’s sexiest drummer, and that’s really a package deal!”

“You’re mad,” Roger said, shaking his head and looking down at the cigarette in his hand. “You’re going to do my head in with all these compliments.”

“Just being honest,” I grinned.

He took one last drag off of his cigarette, and put it out in the ashtray.

“So watching me play the drums really did it for you, eh?” Roger asked, his eyes twinkling as he looked down at me.

“Oh my God yes,” I said.

“Well, maybe I should get a pair of my drumsticks out and start banging on the walls or something if you like it all that much,” Roger breathed into my ear, sucking and biting on my earlobe.

“Oh, trust me, you don’t need any drums to make me want you,” I said, twining my arms around his neck.

He kissed his way down my throat, kneading and playing with the nipple of one of my breasts with his right hand as his mouth found the other. My body was already reacting to his touch, and I was very much looking forward to our next round of lovemaking, with the added bonus of more foreplay, just as Roger had promised.


	11. Chapter 11

Roger and I spent a blissfully happy night in each other’s arms, waking up periodically to kiss or fool around a bit. When I woke up the next morning, I was surprised to see Roger out of bed and fully dressed in a pair of black pants and a long sleeved black t-shirt, preparing a pot of tea for the two of us. He had a small round table all laid out with a white, fringed tablecloth, two black ceramic teacups and a matching teapot.

“Good morning,” I said, swiping at the hair hanging in my face. I pressed the faded red knit blanket on Roger’s bed up to my chest and sat up to get a better look at what he was up to.

“Good morning,” he returned with a smile. He looked absolutely adorable, sitting on a chair at the end of his bed, poised over the small table, teapot in hand, his hair still messy from the night before.

“Where’s my camera?” I asked, glancing around the room.

“Oh, I moved it over here,” Roger said, indicating the spot under his chair. “I didn’t want to accidentally step on it.”

Sexy and thoughtful, I thought to myself.

“Can you hand it to me?” I asked.

He reached down to pick it up, and then thought better of it as he was handing it to me.

“Wait, you’re not going to take a photo of me, are you?” he asked.

“Of course I am,” I said. “I want to save the sight of you sitting there holding a teapot and looking cute for all posterity.”

“Oh God,” he grinned, covering his face with his hand, clearly loving every bit of the attention he was getting from me.

“Smile,” I said. Instead he gave me a silly look, jutting his bottom teeth and chin out, so that he looked like a cross between someone smiling and snarling.

“Very funny,” I drawled. Roger just laughed.

“How about I take a photo of you?” Roger asked.

“I think you’d better let me put some clothes on first,” I said.

“Well that takes all the fun out of it,” Roger teased.

I got up and hunted down all of my clothes, which were scattered from one end of Roger’s flat to the other, while Roger watched with fascination, spilling half the tea on his little fringed tablecloth.

“Damn it!” Roger swore under his breath, jumping up to grab a towel.

“I’m not sure that you should be allowed to handle tea,” I laughed. “You seem to have a habit of spilling it.”

I took my clothes into the bathroom and got dressed, wishing desperately that I had something clean to put on, particularly since it was a chilly morning, and a skimpy halter-top didn’t provide much in the way of warmth. Where had my denim jacket ended up anyway? I wondered.

As if reading my mind, Roger called out, “You’re welcome to borrow one of my shirts, you know, if you’re cold, or want something clean to wear.”

“That would be great,” I replied, coming out of the bathroom and sitting down Indian style on the end of Roger’s bed. Now that I was outside the warm cocoon of Roger’s blankets, I could feel how chilly his little flat truly was, and I ran my hands over my arms for warmth.

Roger immediately got up and walked over to a nearby closet, pulling out a black long-sleeved-button-down shirt and handing it to me. It was the one he’d worn the night we played pool, I realized. I put it on over my halter-top, leaving the front open, and rolled up the sleeves a bit. I snuggled deeper into the shirt, hugging it close to my body, realizing that it smelled just like Roger. I hoped that it wasn’t one of his favorite shirts, because it was very likely that he’d never get it back.

“That looks much better on you than it does on me,” Roger smiled. “Now I’m definitely going to have to take a photo.”

What was it about a girl wearing a guy’s shirt that always seemed to turn men on? I handed Roger my camera, stuck my tongue out at him as he took my picture, and the two of us could finally drink the tea that he had so thoughtfully made.

I noticed as we sat there chatting and drinking that Roger had a very interesting lamp sitting on the table in front of us. At first it reminded me of the arm of the Statue of Liberty, holding her torch aloft, but upon closer examination, I realized that it was in fact a half naked lady done in bronze holding up a flame made of glass.

“Nice lamp,” I said sarcastically, squinting at it from where I sat at the end of his bed. I took a sip of my tea and raised an eyebrow at Roger.

“What?” he smiled innocently, pouring more tea into his cup. “I found it at one of the jumble sales that Freddie and I always go to.”

And as if the very devil himself had heard his name being said, there was a sudden knock at the front door followed by, “Roger! Are you decent?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I sighed, clattering my cup down onto my saucer.

Roger grabbed his watch off the table and looked at the time. “I bet he went to he jumble sales without me this morning.”

Who the hell cares?? I wanted to scream. Weren’t we even allowed to have a peaceful morning after without Freddie bombarding us? 

Roger, who was obviously far more used to Freddie’s intrusions than I was, immediately jumped up and ran for the front door.

“Hello darlings! We brought you something,” Freddie trilled as he entered Roger’s flat followed closely by Brian.

I suddenly went very pink around the ears at the sight of Brian walking in. I thought back to the disappointed look he’d given me the night before as Roger and I were leaving the concert, and I couldn’t help but feel a little guilty that I was still sitting in Roger’s flat the next morning on the very bed we’d been having sex in. I didn’t quite understand why it was that Brian seemed to bring such ridiculous feelings out in me – Roger _was_ my boyfriend after all – but nevertheless, I found myself suddenly looking down at my lap, picking at an invisible piece of lint, as soon as Brian flashed those sad hazel eyes of his my way.

“Did you go to the jumble sales?” Roger asked Freddie, as he shut his front door with a snap.

“Yes, and I had to drag Brian along with me, since you were otherwise indisposed,” Freddie said, glancing in my direction with his usual cat-like grin. “Good morning, Carrie. Sleep well?”

“What little sleep I got was very nice, thank you for asking,” I smirked.

“Ooh, feisty!” Freddie exclaimed. Even Brian, I was surprised to see, spared a slight smile.

Roger pulled up a couple of chairs for his friends and sat back down, asking Freddie what was in the bags he’d brought in.

“Well, first of all, I thought you two might be hungry after a long night of sex,” Freddie began, as he set a small bag on Roger’s table, “so I brought some muffins and jam. And then, I found this and thought it would be perfect for Carrie.”

Freddie reached into a small white paper bag and pulled out a pink t-shirt with the words “Sex Goddess” emblazoned across the front in bright red letters. The “s” in sex sported a set of devil horns, and the final “s” in goddess trailed out into a pointed devil tail.

“Very funny,” I said, giving Freddie a withering look as I held the shirt up to my chest.

“So what do you think, Roger? Is it accurate?” Freddie asked.

“So, you brought some muffins and jam you said?” Roger replied, peering into the brown paper bag that Freddie had set on the table.

“Don’t worry, Roger and I will talk later,” Freddie assured me with a wink and a nod.

Comforting thought indeed.

“Oh, and I almost forgot, you two were in such a hurry to leave last night that you left a few things behind after the gig,” Freddie said. He reached into a large paper shopping bag and pulled out Roger’s pants and the shirt he’d had on during the show and threw them at him, and then proceeded to do the same to me with my denim jacket.

“Oh good, I was wondering where that went,” I said, catching it in midair.

Roger peeled the clothes Freddie had thrown at him off of his head where they’d landed, and tossed them on the floor with very little regard.

“What’s this?” Roger asked, dipping his hand into yet another bag. He pulled out a slightly worn game of Twister and held it up for everyone to see.

“Oh, someone was selling that at one of the jumble sales,” Freddie said dismissively. “I thought it might be fun for tonight.”

“Tonight? What’s tonight?” Roger asked.

“I thought I’d have a little get together at my place,” Freddie replied. “You two are welcome, of course. Brian’s coming, John and Veronica will be there, and Mary’s invited a couple of girls.”

Roger and I exchanged a quick glance. After the arguments that had ensued the last time over Freddie suggesting that we play spin the bottle, I wasn’t sure how well a game of Twister would go down.

Thankfully, Freddie and Brian didn’t stick around very long, leaving Roger and me to spend the rest of the afternoon by ourselves. Roger took a shower and shaved, and spent more time doing his hair than most women did. Apparently it took a lot of effort to get that “just rolled out of bed” look. I didn’t mind though, the end product was more than worth it. Roger donned his denim button-down-the-front shirt, a pair of black bell-bottoms, some brown leather boots and his black leather jacket. He looked amazing as always.

It was off to my place next so that I too could get cleaned up and ready for the day, which, of course, was already half over by that point. Roger found an old box of photos in my nightstand, which he laid on my bed and rifled through while I took a shower and brushed my teeth.

I waltzed out of the bathroom a little while later wearing nothing but a towel, and the photos were immediately forgotten. I walked to my closet to find something to wear with Roger hot on my heels. He came up behind me as I looked through my clothes, his chin resting on my shoulder, his hands working their way inside the towel.

“You know, if you keep this up, we’re never going to get anything accomplished today,” I sighed.

“Oh I can think of several things we could accomplish,” Roger breathed into my ear as he nibbled on my earlobe. Oh God, he already knew my weaknesses, my ears being toward the top of the list. I stood my ground though and insisted that I find something to wear. He finally acquiesced, and decided to help me in my cause.

“Okay, let’s see what we’ve got here,” Roger said, sorting through my clothes. “Why do you have so many plaid skirts?”

“You sound like Annie,” I laughed. “I thought they’d be the sort of thing that students would be wearing over here.”

“Well, I don’t know who would have given you such an idea, but you were sadly misinformed,” Roger said decidedly. “They remind me of something my teachers would have worn.”

I made a mental note not to put wool skirts on any of my future shopping lists.

“How about this?” Roger said, pulling one of my angel-sleeved peasant blouses out of the closet.

“Yeah, that’ll work,” I said.

Roger also dug out an old pair of tan corduroy bell-bottoms that I hadn’t worn in ages and a pair of tan suede boots. I had to admit, he’d picked out a pretty decent ensemble. I shook my head slightly and wondered over the fact that everyone in my life seemed determined to dress me. Apparently I needed to take fashion 101 and learn what to wear and what not to wear. Then again, I could probably just ask Freddie, I thought. I was sure he’d have a few insights for me.

I dug a white bra, some socks and a pair of pink striped bikini underpants out of my dresser and went back to the bathroom to finish getting dressed while Roger went reluctantly back to my old photos. I finished up my hair and make-up, and was ready to face what was left of the day.

The two of us went out for a late lunch / early dinner at Roger’s favorite pizza place, where we joked about how odd it seemed to actually spend a day by ourselves without Freddie looming around every corner. Afterwards we went to see _Dirty Harry_ at the movies, which Roger loved and I thought was rather violent. It was nice to see the familiar streets and buildings of San Francisco as the backdrop at least.

After the movie we made our way to Freddie’s, and once again, seemed to be the last people to show up. This time when we got there the music was already blaring loud enough to be heard from the sidewalk as we got out of Roger’s car. When we got to Freddie’s front door it was already open slightly, so Roger just pushed it the rest of the way and made our presence known.

“Hey! Roger and Carrie are here!” Brian shouted from the same red chair that he’d sat in the last time I’d seen him at Freddie’s. He was slouched down in his seat, examining the latest Led Zeppelin album, _Led Zeppelin IV_ , with a nearly empty glass of red wine sitting on a small table beside him. As soon as he saw Roger and me walk in, he set the album aside, sat up a little straighter, and flashed a sparkling smile our way.

He seems oddly happy, I thought to myself. That same morning at Roger’s he’d barely said a word. I quirked an eyebrow in his direction, trying to figure out what had brought about such a change in his demeanor.

We walked the rest of the way into Freddie’s living room, closing the door behind us, and had barely set our things on the couch when Freddie came bounding out of the kitchen laughing loudly over something with a glass of wine dangling precariously from his hand.

“There you are!” he shouted, throwing an arm around Roger’s shoulders. “We didn’t think you were going to make it!”

“We were watching _Dirty Harry_ ,” Roger shouted over the music.

“What was dirty and hairy?!” Freddie exclaimed.

“ _Dirty Harry_!” Roger repeated. “You know, Clint Eastwood?”

Roger demonstrated his point by making shooting motions with his thumb and forefinger. Freddie, who had just taken a sip of wine, nearly spit the contents of his mouth onto the floor as he choked back a laugh. Personally, I hadn’t thought that Roger pretending that his hand was a gun was all that funny, but clearly Freddie did. Everyone seemed to be acting very odd, and I found myself wondering what exactly had been going on before we arrived. There were certainly a lot of empty wine bottles sitting around, I noticed.

“Roger, come here, I’ve got something to show you,” Freddie said at last, dragging his friend off in the direction of his kitchen. Roger turned back to me and shrugged in apology, and then reached for his pocket to grab his cigarettes.

“Shit, I’ve left my cigarettes in the car,” he said, groping in an empty pocket.

“I’ll go get ‘em!” Brian volunteered, slowly unfolding his tall, lanky form from the chair in the corner.

“Are you sure?” Roger scowled. “You usually won’t go near my cigarettes.”

“Eh, it’s fine,” Brian shrugged, waving Roger’s concern away. “I need some fresh air anyway.”

Roger looked dubious, but tossed his keys to Brian anyway before being completely dragged away by Freddie. Brian walked past me and smiled on his way out the front door. He was visibly wobbling, and his eyes were noticeably red. It didn’t take Agatha Christie to figure out that he was drunk as a skunk. Was this the same guy who dragged Roger and me to his place because we’d been drinking too much after playing pool? I’d never seen Brian in such a state, and I found myself wondering how on earth he was going to make it down two flights of stairs in the condition he was in.

I wrestled with myself mentally for a moment, and then decided that I’d better go after him, just to make sure that he was okay.

“Brian!” I yelled, dashing out the front door.

I immediately realized my mistake as Brian tripped over the last stair above the landing, turning to see who had called him. My hand flew to my mouth as I watched him twist his ankle and fall against the handrail.

“My God! Brian, are you okay?” I gasped, running toward him down the stairs. I reached for his arm to help him back up, and he just started laughing. I furrowed my brows and asked, “What in the hell have you been drinking tonight?”

“I don’t know,” Brian smiled, shaking his head slightly. “Mary’s friend Jane brought a few bottles of wine over tonight. I pretty much drank one whole bottle by myself I think.”

“I thought you didn’t do this sort of thing,” I scowled.

“Who told you that?” Brian asked, looking at me slightly bleary-eyed.

I couldn’t believe that he was standing one stair below me, and was still leaning slightly against the handrail, yet I found myself being forced to look up somewhat in order to meet his gaze. The man was an absolute giant.

“No one,” I replied. “I just thought that after what you did for Roger and me at the pool hall last week, taking us home and all…”

“Yeah, well… I don’t see why you of all people should have a problem with me drinking,” Brian interrupted in a tone that dripped with sarcasm. “You like bad boys, remember?”

“I never said I liked bad boys,” I scowled.

“You’re with Roger,” Brian shrugged.

“Roger’s not a bad boy,” I said defensively.

Brian let out a hollow laugh and asked, “How long have you known him? A month?” He stood fully upright again, testing the strength of his ankle. “I’ve known him for four years. Trust me. He’s done plenty that you don’t know about.”

With that, he turned the corner of the staircase and started walking the rest of the way down.

“Wait a minute!” I yelled, running after him. “You can’t just make a comment like that and then walk away!”

“Think I just did!” Brian sang over his shoulder.

My jaw dropped over Brian’s sudden attitude. Who was this cynical, irrational man? He certainly wasn’t the quiet, well-mannered, soft-spoken Brian that I was used to. And what I had done to deserve his cynicism anyway? All I did was follow him to make sure he was okay!

I kept trying to catch up with him, but his legs were so long, and my boots were so cumbersome that it took the better part of two flights of stairs before I was able to grab his arm.

“Wait a minute!” I shouted.

Brian stopped and turned so abruptly that I nearly collided with his chest.

“What?” he demanded.

“What has Roger done to you? What have I done to you for that matter?” I questioned.

“Nothing, you wouldn’t understand,” Brian said quietly, turning to walk away again.

“Oh, I see. I wouldn’t understand. I forgot, you’re the smart one out of the two of us. I’m just the dumb little American girl whose brain can’t possibly keep up with yours.” I shook my head and decided to thoroughly wash my hands of the whole thing. If he was going to be all moody, he could just go fetch Roger’s cigarettes and twist his ankle ten more times for all I cared! It was his own damn fault for wearing those big ass stacked heel boots anyway, I thought. I immediately spun around to head back upstairs.

Just as I turned, I felt Brian grab hold of my arm.

“If there’s one thing that you’re definitely not, it’s stupid,” he said, turning me to face him.

He was standing very close to me now, looking at me with an intensity that I’d never known he could possess. His hazel eyes seemed darker all of the sudden, more dangerous… 

Before I knew what was happening, Brian climbed up onto the stair just below the one I was standing on, closing what little distance was between us. He reached for the back of my head, twining his long fingers in my hair, and pulled me toward him for a kiss.

At first I was in complete shock. My eyes flew open in surprise, my hands clutched at his arms, unsure whether or not I should push him away, but then my body’s instincts seemed to take over, and I melted into him, kissing him back. My eyelids slowly drifted shut and my hands slid over his shoulders, reaching for the back of his neck and his long curly locks. He felt and tasted so different from Roger, but not in a bad way. Instead of smelling like cigarettes he smelled like soap and shampoo. In fact, I realized in that moment exactly why his pillow had smelled like almonds. It was because his hair smelled like almonds. I’d never thought of almonds as being sexy in the least, but somehow, the scent of them on Brian was intoxicating.

He pulled me in closer until our bodies were pressed tightly together. It felt so strange to be kissing someone other than Roger, but not the least bit unpleasant. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Brian might have been taller and thinner than Roger, but he also felt softer somehow, his touch more tender. I became lost in the sensation of his warm lips pressed against mine, and the sweet taste of wine on his breath.

He pulled away suddenly and looked down at me, his hazel eyes cloudy with desire. It hit me then, as I gazed at his handsome features, exactly what I was doing, and I pulled even further away, chastising myself mentally for allowing Brian to go so far. What would Roger say if he knew? This was his best friend for God’s sake! A wave of panic washed over me, and I took a step back up the stairs.

“Brian, I…” I said, trying to find the words.

“I’m sorry,” he said, backing away from me as well, his booted foot coming to rest on the next stair down. He looked sheepishly at the ground and said, “I’ve been wanting to do that since the last time we were here at Freddie’s.”

I just stared at him in utter disbelief. Was he telling me that he’d been wanting to kiss me since the first night we’d met?

“Brian, I’m flattered, but, bad boy or not, I’m in love with Roger,” I said.

“Roger’s not a bad boy,” Brian said quietly, as he continued to stare at the ground. “He just makes some bad choices sometimes.” He looked up at me then, forcing a slight smile. “If anyone can keep in line though, I have no doubt that you can.”

I felt so bad. He looked completely deflated and my heart ached for him. I knew that Brian was attracted to me, he’d pretty much said as much at his flat the morning after our drunken escapade in the poolroom of the Kensington, but I really didn’t think he’d ever try and kiss me. Nor did I think that I would enjoy it quite so much if he did. I put that thought firmly out of my head. I couldn’t deal with having to analyze why Brian’s kisses were so enjoyable in that moment.

“You may want to get back up there you know,” Brian said suddenly, motioning his head towards Freddie’s flat. “There’s a ginger haired girl named Kim that says she knows Roger. She’s been asking about him all night.”

“What?” I hissed, my eyebrows snapping down over my eyes.

“I dunno,” Brian shrugged. “She’s a friend of Mary’s. Says she lives on the same block as Roger.”

Suddenly all thoughts of kissing Brian were gone, replaced instead by thoughts of some redheaded vixen dallying with my man. I could feel my claws coming out.

“Were they? I mean, is she…” I stuttered.

“One of Roger’s bad choices?” Brian offered. “Possibly. I’m just telling you what I’ve been overhearing tonight.”

There was an awkward pause between us then as the wheels in my head starting turning at a mile a minute.

“I’m going to go get Roger’s cigarettes out of his car. I’ll be back up in a minute,” Brian said at last, turning to head out the door that led onto the street outside.

I just quietly nodded my assent as I absentmindedly chewed on a fingernail.

“Son of a bitch…” I muttered after Brian walked out the door. I hadn’t noticed any suspicious looking girls in Freddie’s flat earlier, but then again, I’d only been in there for about a minute. There could be any number of girls lurking around in Freddie’s bedroom or kitchen for all I knew, and I’d left Roger up there alone with them for far too long already.

Boots or no boots, I took the stairs two at a time trying to get back to Freddie’s flat, and nearly collided with Roger at the top of the stairs.

“Oh, there you are!” he smiled, grabbing hold of me. “Where’d Brian go? I thought he was getting my cigarettes?”

Oh God… I suddenly felt like a mouse caught in a trap. If Roger were to find out exactly what had waylaid Brian… But I couldn’t think about that. There were other, more pressing matters at hand. I had to think of exactly what to say to Roger, and I had to think it up quick.

“Um, Brian seemed like maybe he wasn’t feeling very well,” I began as innocently as I could muster, all the while trying to catch my breath from running up the stairs. “I think maybe he’s had too much to drink, cause he was wobbling a bit as he walked out the door. I went after him to tell him that I’d get your cigarettes, but then he twisted his ankle on the stairs. I went to make sure that he was okay, and then came back up here.”

“Why are you breathing so hard?” Roger asked suspiciously.

“I ran up the stairs,” I explained.

“Why?”

Damn it. The jig was up and I knew it. I hadn’t wanted to say anything about the red haired girl to Roger, but I couldn’t come up with any other excuse for running up the stairs fast enough.

“Brian may have mentioned that there was a girl in Freddie’s flat that was asking about you, so…”

“So…” Roger drawled. “What? Did you think something was going to happen while you were out of my sight?”

I looked guiltily at the ground and shuffled my foot a bit.

“You don’t trust me?” Roger asked in a hurt voice.

“I do trust you,” I quickly replied. “It’s girls that I don’t trust. They’re all lying, conniving, backstabbing bitches, the whole lot of them.”

My feelings came rushing out of me all in one big gush like the boiling waters of a hot spring, and I instantly regretted it. Nothing says “Honey, I love you!” quite like sounding akin to a jealous shrew. I hadn’t even known how deep my distrust of other girls ran until that very moment.

Roger’s eyebrows shot up, and he suddenly broke out laughing, a sound that echoed around the entire stairwell of Freddie’s building.

“My God, I don’t think I ever want to be on your bad side,” Roger teased. “If you want to know the truth, yes, there is a girl here tonight named Kim that I do know, and yes I did a few things that I regret with her, but believe me, you don’t have anything to worry about. And trust me, I sure as hell didn’t know she’d be here, or I would have suggested that we go back to your place, and you could have put that towel back on that you were wearing earlier.”

Roger grinned and waggled his eyebrows up and down in a suggestive manner, and every muscle in my body relaxed. “Oh thank God,” I sighed, clutching my chest.

“Come on _Dirty Harry_ ,” Roger smiled, putting his arm around me, leading me back into Freddie’s flat. “Freddie’s making drinks. You’ve got to try one.”


	12. Chapter 12

Roger and I meandered back into Freddie’s flat cuddling with each other, all the while though my catty female senses were on high alert for any sign of red hair. I spotted the ginger haired offender sitting on Freddie’s couch gossiping with some other girl that I was equally unfamiliar with, although I assumed it was the girl who had brought the wine. The redhead turned to glance casually at Roger and me entering through the front door, and gave me a spiteful glare. You know, the kind of contemptuous look that the unpopular girls get from the popular girls in school, letting them know in no uncertain terms that they’re not worth their time? We all know the look. The worst part was, as much as I hated to admit it, she was actually very pretty. She was tall and thin with big blue eyes and pouty red lips that looked like they were just waiting to be kissed. It was obvious what Roger might have seen in her, and unbidden thoughts of the two of them wrapped up in each other’s arms flooded my mind. I turned away and clung even tighter to Roger’s arm, pulling him in closer. Roger, completely unaware of the silent cat-fight that was going on around him, seemed to take my actions as a sign that I was after something more than just snuggling, and immediately reached down to give me a playful kiss.

“Do you two ever give it a rest?” Freddie drawled as he leaned against the doorway of his kitchen, watching us walk back in.

“How are the margaritas coming?” Roger shouted over the music, ignoring Freddie’s snide remark.

“Margaritas?” I asked in a surprised voice.

“Yeah, Freddie got a bottle of tequila from one of our mates at Kensington Market, and he’s trying to make some margaritas with it,” Roger grinned.

“Oh, this I’ve got to see,” I said, knowing full well that Freddie couldn’t so much as boil an egg, let alone make anything more complicated.

Freddie led the way into the kitchen, and within seconds, Brian came wandering in right behind us with Roger’s cigarettes.

“Thank God,” Roger sighed. “I was starting to have withdrawals.”

Roger quickly popped a cigarette out of the pack and lit it up while Freddie showed me the bottle of tequila and a recipe for margaritas that his friend from Kensington Market had also given him. He procured a small decanter from the fridge in which he had already mixed up some of the concoction and poured me a small glass. All of the guys, including John, who had also just popped his head into the kitchen, watched as I took a sip.

“Oh God!” I said, making a face. “What the hell is in this stuff?”

I dumped what was left in my glass into the sink and refilled it with water, taking a nice long sip while everyone had a hearty laugh at my expense.

“I just did what the recipe told me to do!” Freddie said in his defense.

“Well the recipe is wrong,” I said, setting my glass down on the counter with a decided clink. “There’s way too much lime for one thing.”

“And who made you an expert on margaritas?” Freddie shot back.

“Uh, hello? Californian here,” I said, pointing at myself. “We’ve got one of the highest populations of Mexicans outside of Mexico.”

“Fine then, you make the margaritas dear,” Freddie said, shoving the bottle of tequila at me.

“Fine then, I will,” I said. Somehow I got the feeling that I’d just fallen into a very cleverly set trap.

Everyone left the kitchen to go out and mingle, except for Roger, who watched in fascination as I squeezed a few more limes, dug a pan out of a cupboard to make a batch of simple syrup on the stove, and measured everything out carefully, adding tequila and far less lime juice than the recipe called for. I obtained a few glasses from another cupboard, filled them with ice and the margarita mixture, and passed them around to anyone who was interested. They were proclaimed a great success, and immediately everybody wanted more.

Great, I thought, now I’m going to be stuck in the kitchen all night while everyone else is having fun.

“I didn’t know you were handy in the kitchen,” Roger said, sounding slightly impressed, as he leaned back against the counter and studied my every move.

“Well, I know how to cook, if that’s what you mean,” I smiled, squeezing more limes. This time I was going to triple the batch so I wouldn’t have to stand there all night.

“You’ve never cooked for me,” Roger pouted, flashing those big puppy-dog-eyes of his my way.

Honestly, could the man be more adorable?

“When would you like me to cook for you?” I laughed, measuring out tequila.

“Hmm, let’s see,” Roger said, scratching his chin thoughtfully. “I don’t think I’m doing anything tomorrow.”

“Wow! That was quick!” I exclaimed. “Okay, tomorrow it is, but I must warn you, all I know how to make is American food. I don’t do bangers and mash, or blood puddings or anything bizarre like that.”

“Hey! Bangers and mash are delicious!” Roger protested.

“Sweetheart, I’ve seen bangers and mash, and it looks like something my cat back home would have coughed up,” I teased.

Roger just laughed and shook his head, insisting that British food wasn’t as bad as all that, but said too that he was looking forward to whatever “American” food I made him the following day.

Soon the margaritas were finished and distributed to anyone who wanted one. Freddie’s guests seemed to have formed into little cliques, with everyone chatting, laughing and mingling with their closest friends. I was tucked away in a corner listening to Roger and Brian discuss the highlights of the latest concerts they’d seen, when Freddie proclaimed that it was time to break out his new Twister game.

I was half waiting for Brian to protest like he’d done with spin-the-bottle, but he seemed as eager as anyone to play. He was drunk though, I reminded myself, as I watched him casually sipping away at one of my margaritas, his eyes getting redder by the minute. I seemed to be the only one having apprehensions, considering that little miss red head might have an opportunity to wrap herself around my boyfriend while we played. I knew it was just a game, and I knew that I shouldn’t be so jealous, but Roger had admitted to “doing things that he regretted” with her, and she kept staring at him from across the room as though he were a bowl of ice cream that she was getting ready to devour. The fact was that Twister was just a notoriously naughty game, particularly when drunk people who had lost their inhibitions were playing, and I had a nagging feeling in the back of my mind that things could happen that I wasn’t really comfortable with.

“All right, here are the rules darlings,” Freddie announced, turning down the blaring music on his stereo. “The last boy and girl standing at the end of the game get to go to my room and have a bit of time alone to do whatever they’d like.”

He looked right at me as he said it, flashing a salacious grin my way, just waiting for me to react.

It was obvious that he was preying upon my jealousies and insecurities, and I very nearly told him what he could do with his stupid Twister game. Instead, I just narrowed my eyes and glared at him, forcing myself not to give in to his taunts. I mean honestly, was he serious? What were we, ten? Just when I thought that his suggestion of playing spin-the-bottle was bad enough, things got even worse!

Of course Kim seemed very excited over the prospect, as she smiled and simpered at Roger, and leaned over to whisper something inaudible to Mary. I, on the other hand, felt quite differently. Playing Twister in and of itself would have been bad enough, but if Freddie was serious about the winners getting to have a make-out session in his room, then this was going too far.

“I don’t like this,” I said to Roger under my breath. “That girl Kim keeps staring at you, you know.”

“It’s going to be fine,” he replied. “I told you, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“So if it ends up being you and red over there all alone in Freddie’s room, I’m not supposed to worry about her making a move on you?” I asked.

“Look, I promise you right now, if that’s the case then I won’t let anything happen between us, I swear,” Roger replied. “Freddie’s just trying to wind everyone up like he always does.”

“So, if I end up in Freddie’s room with, say, Brian, for instance, you’re going to be okay with that?”

I could see the muscles tighten slightly in Roger’s jaw. Yeah, suddenly it didn’t sound quite so innocent, did it? I thought.

“I thought we trusted each other, remember?” he asked.

“Okay, fine,” I nodded. Everyone else seemed to be taking the whole thing in stride after all, so why shouldn’t I? Then again, they were all drunk and I wasn’t. Maybe that was the problem. I decided that I needed another margarita or two in me.

Everybody took their shoes off and stood around the game board waiting their turn, with Freddie as the caller. We went in a clockwise fashion with Brian going first, then Roger, me, Veronica, John, Mary, Kim and Jane. It was double the amount of people that were supposed to be playing, but no one seemed to care. 

Although I was still keeping a watchful eye on Kim, I had to admit that I was having a bit more fun once we started playing. Brian was bent over one end of the game with his right hand clutching onto a red circle, Roger was next to him with his left foot on a blue circle, then I had to enter the fray with my left hand on a yellow circle. Everyone continued to join in, and everything was fine, albeit slightly crowded, until Brian’s next move, which forced him to put his left foot on a yellow circle, which I was more or less blocking. He ended up stretching his long leg over the top of me, as I hung on for dear life, determined not to be the first girl out. Matters didn’t improve when Roger had to stretch his right hand underneath me trying to get to a green circle. Before I even had a chance to try and attempt my next move, Brian lost his balance, bowling Roger and me over in the process. The three of us sprawled across the plastic game board laughing for a few seconds before untangling ourselves and getting up. The best part of course, as far as I was concerned, was that Roger and I were both out of the running for the after-game activities, which allowed me to breathe a sigh of relief.

John was already the last man standing, so the only thing left to determine was, who would be going into Freddie’s room with him. It seemed to me, as I watched the remainder of the players carry on with the game, that John was purposefully, but very subtly, making it more difficult for all of the girls other than Veronica to win by blocking certain colors so that they had a harder time reaching for them. Very clever, I thought, and in the end, Veronica and John were declared the winners.

I assumed that once they went on their merry way to Freddie’s room, that the game would be over and everyone could get back to what they had been doing, but oh no. With two less people now it made it far easier to play another round while John and Veronica were otherwise occupied. I didn’t like the odds though. If Freddie was going to continue to call the game, which it looked like he was going to do, then that left only two guys up for grabs - Roger and Brian. It was more clear than ever that I was going to have to make sure that I was the last girl standing, at least until Roger was out. Despite Roger’s assurances that nothing would happen even if he did end up in Freddie’s room with Kim, I still didn’t want to give the bitch the satisfaction of beating me, or spending even so much as one second alone with my boyfriend.

This time it was Mary and her friends that started the game, giggling and wobbling from the wine and margaritas, trying to maneuver around one another. I went next, trying to stay as far away from the other girls as possible, since they looked fairly unstable. Then it was Roger, who ended up far closer to Kim than I was comfortable with, and then Brian, who was pressed up against my side, his curly hair coming dangerously close to going up my nose. The first to go was Mary who took her friend Jane out with her in a fit of laughter. That left only red and me out of the girls, and I was going to be damned if I was going to let her win.

When it was Kim’s turn, she, of course, had to make a spectacle out of reaching underneath Roger to get her right hand on a red circle, when in fact, there was one right next to her that would have been far easier to reach. I just narrowed my eyes and dug my claws even deeper into the plastic game board. My next turn had me moving my hand over only one color, which I was thankful for, but Roger, on the other hand, had to try and contort his body so that he could reach the blue circle in front of him with his right foot. It was obvious that he wasn’t going to be able to do it, and he fell directly on top of Kim.

Roger just laughed it off and got up right away, but then his expression clouded over slightly as he realized who was left standing – Brian and me.

“Well, this is an interesting turn of events!” Freddie exclaimed with a wicked gleam in his eyes. “John and Veronica have had enough time, so let’s get them out.”

I stood there looking helplessly at Roger, who was trying to play the outcome of the game off with a smile and a dismissive wave of his hand. He couldn’t fool me though. I could tell by the way he was fidgeting that he wasn’t happy. Brian, I noticed, suddenly seemed to be a bit nervous himself, undoubtedly because of what had happened between the two of us earlier on Freddie’s staircase, and just looked quietly at the ground, unsure of what to say or do.

John and Veronica emerged from Freddie’s room moments later, lips red and swollen, hair slightly disheveled, as they attempted to straighten their clothes.

“Okay, Brian and Carrie’s turn!” Freddie pronounced with relish.

“Fine, but we’re done with Twister, right?” I demanded.

“Of course not, darling, Roger still gets to have a turn,” Freddie purred.

My eyes flew to Roger, who looked back at me with a helpless expression, and then I turned my attention to Kim, who sat on the couch grinning at me like a tiger about to pounce on it’s prey.

“No!” I shouted at Freddie. “This is stupid!”

“What’s the matter, darling?” Freddie simpered. “Surely you’re not worried about Roger spending a few minutes in another girl’s company?”

If looks could have killed, Freddie would have crumpled to the floor on the spot over the bitterness and anger spewing from my eyes.

“Don’t make a scene, it’ll only make things worse,” Brian breathed into my ear.

He grabbed my hand and said “Come on,” leading me off towards Freddie’s room, while Freddie just quietly chuckled behind us. I looked back over my shoulder one last time at Roger, who just stood there, arms folded across his chest, scowling down at the familiar way that Brian held onto my hand.

Brian gave me a light shove in the back, pushing me into Freddie’s room, and then closed the door behind us. I immediately went into a tirade.

“I swear to God, when I get out of this room I’m going to kill Freddie! How dare he just stand there and gloat at me the way he did? I mean, what is wrong with him anyway? What is the point of all this childishness?!” I screamed, pacing like a caged cat around Freddie’s room.

“Calm down,” Brian said, gently placing his hands on my shoulders.

“No, I won’t calm down!” I spat, shrugging out from underneath his touch. “I’ve been forced to watch all night as that stupid bitch out there has been making eyes at Roger, clearly waiting for any opportunity to get close to him, and not only is Freddie aware of the situation, but he thought it would be fun to give her the very opportunity she’s been waiting for!”

“Well, that’s what Freddie does,” Brian explained calmly. “He likes to wind people up to see what kind of reaction he can get out of them. And, quite frankly, you’re giving him exactly what he was hoping for.”

“I don’t get it though! Why do you guys put up with his ridiculous behavior?!” I wailed, throwing my hands in the air out of sheer frustration.

“He’s Freddie,” Brian shrugged. “We just have a laugh over it and don’t take him seriously.”

Okay, so I was taking the whole Twister game too seriously. Message received. Deep down I knew that I was, but I’d managed to get myself so worked up over the whole thing that I was having a hard time thinking straight.

I took a deep, steadying breath, shook my head and said, “I honestly don’t even know why I’m playing along with this whole thing. I’m going back out there…”

I made for the door, and Brian reached for my arm and stopped me. He practically dragged me over to Freddie’s bed and forced me to sit down.

“Listen to me,” Brian slurred, flopping unsteadily onto the bed next to me. “You’re not going to solve anything by getting so upset. All you’re doing is showing Kim how insecure you are.”

“Well I’m sorry if I can’t just bottle up my emotions the way you Brits can!” I railed. “And I’m not insecure! I just don’t like her.”

Okay, so I was insecure, but I was in no mood to analyze my faults at that moment.

“Look, even if Roger does end up in here with Kim, I don’t think anything is going to happen,” Brian said.

“Oh, well, that’s reassuring! You don’t _think_ anything is going to happen! May I remind you that you were the one who warned me about her, and told me all about what a ‘bad boy’ my boyfriend is?”

“I told you, I’m sorry about that,” Brian said. “I shouldn’t have said those things. And the fact is, if Roger is the kind person to do something with a girl like that, right under your nose, is he really the kind of guy you want to be with?”

I wasn’t sure if that was supposed to make me feel better or worse somehow, so I decided not to answer. I knew that Brian was trying to get me to calm down and see reason, and the rational side of me knew he was making a lot of sense, but at the same time, all I could think about was Kim’s smug expression, and the triumphant look that she would undoubtedly give me if she won the last game. I realized in that moment that it wasn’t even about the possible threat of Kim making a move on Roger that had me so upset, it was more about the fact that girls like her had been bullying me for most of my life and getting exactly what they wanted. For once, I had an amazing boyfriend who was everything I’d ever wanted in a guy, and the thought of anyone trying to mess with what Roger and I had…

Okay, yes, maybe I was overreacting a bit… more than a bit… but damn it, I was just trying to protect what was mine.

“Are you going to be all right?” Brian asked soothingly, reaching out for my hand.

“No,” I said flatly, looking down at the floor.

“Honestly, I don’t know what you’re so worked up for,” Brian said softly, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze. “No one in their right mind would choose Kim over you.”

I looked up at Brian, surprised over his comment, and realized that he was looking at me with that same intensity that I’d seen when we were alone in Freddie’s stairwell. He leaned in toward me as if he was going to kiss me again, and suddenly the door burst open with Freddie bounding inside laughing.

Brian immediately released my hand, turning pink around the ears and looking slightly embarrassed. I bolted up off the bed and walked across the room trying to put some distance between the two of us.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” Freddie grinned, leaning casually against the doorjamb. “Hand holding? And guilty looks from Brian?” he said loudly enough for everyone in the living room to hear. “The two of you looked awfully cozy when I walked in.”

Friend of Roger’s or not, I was definitely going to have to kill him.

I walked out of Freddie’s room in a huff followed closely by Brian, and glared venomously at Freddie as I pushed past him. Not surprisingly, Roger and Kim were the winners of the last Twister game. The two of them were heading into Freddie’s room as Brian and I were coming out, Kim looking every bit as full of herself as I’d supposed she would. Roger, on the other hand, was staring daggers at Brian and me.

“Holding hands with Brian, were you?” Roger asked caustically as he passed by me.

“It wasn’t like that,” I said firmly.

My heart plummeted as I watched the love of my life going into Freddie’s room with that manipulative, conniving bitch. The sound of the door closing behind them made me start to shake all over with the kind of anger I never knew I possessed.

“Any tequila left?” I asked loudly to anyone who would give me an answer.

When no one did, I walked into Freddie’s kitchen and spotted the bottle sitting on the counter right where I’d left it. I snatched it up, unscrewed the cap, and took it with me over to the doorway of Freddie’s kitchen, where I leaned against the doorjamb staring at Freddie’s bedroom door as I downed what was left in the bottle one gulp at a time. Everyone in the living room kept glancing at me out of the corners of their eyes, as if waiting for me to crack. Brian, I noticed, had pulled Freddie off to one side to talk to him. I genuinely hoped he was telling him what a complete and utter ass he was being.

Thankfully, a few minutes after Roger and Kim had entered Freddie’s bedroom, they opened the door and came back out. Kim was the first to emerge, looking smug and satisfied. She reached up as if to straighten her hair, then turned to Roger, wiping at his lips with her thumb, and said as innocently as possible, “Oh, I hope I didn’t get any lipstick on you.”

That was it. Something somewhere deep inside of me snapped. I reached into the kitchen and slammed the bottle of tequila down on the counter with a loud clatter, and walked with determined speed toward Kim. The whole world around me was thrown into chaos as I curled up my left fist and slammed it into her face as hard as I could. She grabbed for me and pulled my hair as I kicked out at her with all my strength, wishing that I hadn’t taken my boots off to play Freddie’s stupid game. She fought unbelievably dirty and scratched at every bit of me she could get her hands on with her ridiculously long fingernails.

I was still aiming for any part of her that I could hit with my fists as a pair of hands grabbed me around the waist, pulling me in one direction while someone else pulled Kim in another. I was still flailing, trying to get at her, when a soothing voice said in my ear, “Stop fighting! Calm down!” It was Brian holding me back. I struggled against his grip on me, wanting desperately to get back to Kim and rip that red hair of hers out by the roots, especially when I realized that it was Roger whose arms were wrapped around her waist holding her back.

“All right, you need some fresh air,” Brian said to me, tossing me up over his shoulder as if I weighed no more than a leaf. “Roger, I’m taking your girlfriend outside,” he called out vaguely to the room at large.

I could hear raised voices from inside Freddie’s flat as Brian hauled me out the front door and down the stairs. Kim was screaming at Roger saying that his girlfriend was mad, Roger was shouting at Kim for acting like a spoiled brat, Jane was yelling at Mary asking her why she’d invited someone like me to the party, and Freddie was yelling at everyone, telling them to shut up before one of the neighbors called the cops.

“Brian, put me down!” I cried, my head hanging down behind his back, his hand on my bottom, as we bounced down the stairs.

“Not until we get outside,” he said firmly.

“I don’t have my shoes on!” I protested. “And it’s cold outside!”

Feeling slightly motion sick and dizzy from hanging upside down, the cold night air rushed over me as Brian walked out the door and set me down on the sidewalk in front of Freddie’s building.

“What were you thinking up there?” Brian demanded.

“It’s cold out here!” I complained, rubbing my hands over my arms for warmth.

“Good! Maybe it will cool you off!” Brian countered, running a hand through his already tousled hair.

I continued to shiver while Brian just stood there staring down at me, waiting for me to say something. The freezing cold of the pavement seeped through my socks making my toes feel numb.

“I don’t want to talk about it, okay?” I said quietly, looking down at the ground.

Brian just shook his head and sighed.

“At least tell me if you’re all right,” he said softly, closing the space between us to inspect my face.

“I’m fine,” I said as Brian reached out toward me with a worried look. “She just scratched me and pulled my hair more than anything.”

“You’ve got a pretty sizeable gash across your cheek,” Brian said, tilting my face toward a nearby street lamp. “Nothing compared to what you did to her though, I’m sure. I’ve never seen a girl hit as hard as you did.”

I smiled at the thought and felt the scratch on my cheek sting a little.

I could hear footsteps bounding down the staircase inside the building, and suddenly Roger came flying out the door.

“What’s going on out here?” Roger scowled at Brian, taking in the scene in front of him.

“I brought Carrie out here to get her away from that maniac upstairs,” Brian explained, releasing my chin and dropping his hand back down to his side.

“Shouldn’t that be my job?” Roger snapped.

“Well, it looked to me like you had your hands full with Kim,” Brian protested, “so I thought I’d get your girlfriend out of a potentially dangerous situation for you.”

Roger just scowled at both of us, his arms folded tightly across his chest.

Brian planted his hands firmly on his hips, meeting Roger’s glare with one of his own, and I wasn’t sure for a moment whether or not we were going to have yet another fight on our hands.

“I’m going to go upstairs to find your shoes,” Brian said to me at last. “What do they look like?”

“She had tan suede boots on,” Roger answered for me through slightly clenched teeth.

“What about a jacket or handbag? Did you bring anything else with you?” Brian asked.

“I forgot to bring a jacket,” I replied. “I’ve got a brown purse up there somewhere though.”

“My black jacket is up there,” Roger interjected. “She can wear that.”

“Be right back,” Brian nodded.

I could feel warmer air coming from inside Freddie’s building as Brian opened the door, and asked Roger whether or not he minded if we sat at the bottom of the staircase until Brian came back. He didn’t answer me, but followed me inside nonetheless. It was only slightly warmer at the base of the stairs than it was outside, but it was better than nothing.

The two of us sat in awkward silence, unsure of what to say or where to begin. Roger reached into his pocket to pull a cigarette out, lit it, and stared at the ground, still scowling. The realization that he was seriously angry with me was beginning to hit me with dawning horror, and I started to feel a little sick in the pit of my stomach.

Thankfully it didn’t take Brian long to come back with our belongings. Roger offered me his jacket, which I gratefully accepted, then I put my shoes on and did a quick check of my purse to make sure everything was in order.

“Come on, let’s get you home,” Roger said to me in a firm tone.

“Thanks for everything,” I said quietly, turning to Brian.

“What are friends for?” Brian shrugged. “Take care of that cheek.”

“I will,” I answered. 

Roger turned to look at my face, not realizing that I’d been hurt, and glowered at me even more as we walked out to his car.


	13. Chapter 13

The ten-minute drive to my place was achieved in total silence. The events of the evening really started to sink in, and I realized that I’d behaved badly. Beyond badly. I’d behaved like a crazed lunatic. I wouldn’t blame Roger if he never wanted to speak to me again, I thought. Tears started to sting at the back of my eyes, and though I fought valiantly to keep them in check, they fell completely unbidden as I reached up to swipe them away.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Roger glancing my way, aware that I was crying. The crease between his eyebrows eased a little, and I could tell that he was looking for something to say, but finding it difficult.

We pulled up in front of my place, and I gathered my things from the car. Roger walked me up to my door, and I truly thought that it was probably the end of the road for us. My jealously and stupidity had ruined everything. I swiped at another tear as I unlocked my door and then turned to look up at Roger, fully prepared to say good-bye and wish him well. I would throw myself back into my schooling and try to forget that the last month of my life had ever happened.

Instead of saying good-bye, however, Roger gave me a concerned look and asked, “Can you explain to me what happened tonight?”

“I don’t know,” I choked out, crying even harder.

“Can I come in?” Roger asked.

“I didn’t think, I mean, I didn’t know if you’d want…” I spluttered. I collected myself and said, “Of course you can.”

I closed the door and locked it, and motioned him toward the couch where we both took a seat. We gazed at each other thoughtfully for a minute trying to think of how and where to begin.

“Did it really upset you that badly being around Kim tonight?” Roger asked at last, his elbow resting on the back of the couch, his head resting on his hand.

“It was stupid, I know, and I’m sorry,” I said quietly, looking down at my hands as I absentmindedly picked at a fingernail.

“I’m just trying to understand…” Roger said slowly.

“I don’t know if I fully understand,” I began, looking up into his soft blue eyes. “I just saw her sitting there, and I saw the way she was looking at you, and she was attractive, and… Well, you’re you, and I’m me.”

“What does that mean?” Roger asked, frowning.

“I mean, look at you. You’re gorgeous, you’re smart, you’re funny, you’re talented… You’re everything I’ve ever wanted in a guy. You’re everything anyone could want in a guy. And then, look at me…” I said, shaking my head, tears forming again in my eyes. “I’m a geek that wears wool skirts to school and reads too much Jane Austen, and up until last night, had never even had sex before. How sad am I? How am I supposed to compete with all the Kim’s of this world?”

“Wait, are you saying that you’re somehow not good enough for me?” Roger asked me with a puzzled expression.

“I’m from a backwater town that grows raisins, what do you think?” I mumbled, looking down at my lap again.

Roger reached over and tipped my chin up, wiping away a stray tear that had fallen down my cheek.

“Are you mad?” he asked. “I’ve been feeling like you’re _too_ good for me!”

“Oh, right!” I scoffed.

“I’m deadly serious,” he said. “You’re beautiful, and funny, and smart – way too smart for the likes of me, in fact. And I don’t give a damn where you’re from! Just the fact that you’re from America at all makes you sexy and unique. Oh, and by the way, have I ever told you what my father does for a living?”

I just shook my head.

“He works for the potato board down in Cornwall,” Roger replied. “And believe me, you can’t get much more rural than Cornwall. Fresno, I guarantee, would seem glamorous by comparison. So you see, we’re not so different you and I.”

I gave Roger a watery smile, my heart squeezing inside my chest over the fact that he still cared about me and was trying to make me feel better.

“Do you remember telling me last night that you thought I was shy when you first met me?” he asked.

I nodded in reply.

“Well, I’m not a shy person. I’ve never been shy in my life. Believe me, ask Freddie or Brian,” Roger laughed. “But when I saw you at Kensington Market that day, I couldn’t think straight. For the first time in my life, I didn’t know what to say. Nobody’s ever made me feel the way that you do.”

Roger motioned his head toward the daffodils still sitting on my coffee table, and continued on, “Do you know why I gave you those?”

“You said they were all over London this time of year,” I replied.

“Well, that may be true, but that’s not really why I gave them to you,” he said. “I chose daffodils because I read somewhere that they symbolize a new beginning. And that’s what you feel like to me - a new beginning. Someone new and different from any other girl I’ve ever met. And trust me, I’ve known my share of girls.”

“Well that’s comforting,” I said sarcastically.

“It should be,” Roger said. “Out of all the girls I’ve known, you’re the one that stands out. You’re the only one that I’ve ever thought to pick out special flowers for. Come to think of it, you’re the only girl I’ve ever picked out flowers for at all. So when I tell you that you don’t have to worry about other girls, I mean it.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said. “I’ve never felt that jealous in my entire life. She just kept looking at me with that smug expression, and when the two of you went in Freddie’s room alone… I guess I just lost it.”

“Yeah, but I told you nothing was going to happen, and it didn’t,” Roger said. “When she came out of Freddie’s room and made it seem like she’d kissed me, it was just to wind you up.”

“I know, I realize that now,” I said.

“I mean, if you’re going to react like that every time you see a girl from my past, you’re going to be getting in a lot of fights,” Roger smiled.

I just shook my head, not wanting to think about how many fights and / or girls that might encompass. If he was hoping to make me less jealous of other girls, then he was going about it in a very odd way.

“Having said that, I’ve got to admit that you delivered the sweetest left hook I’ve ever seen in my life tonight,” he laughed. “Where did you learn to fight like that?”

“I don’t know,” I shrugged. “I’ve never hit anyone before in my life.”

“God, you were amazing,” Roger breathed. “You gave her a black eye you know.”

“Oh no, did I really?” I cringed.

“Yep, you did,” Roger smiled. “If I ever need a body guard, I’ll know who to call.”

“Well, don’t call me,” I said, “because that was my first and last fight.”

“Well, I’m glad to know that you’re able to defend yourself if nothing else,” Roger said, turning serious. “Speaking of defending yourself, Brian didn’t try anything with you tonight, did he?”

“No,” I answered. “He was a perfect gentleman.”

“Because I know he fancies you,” Roger said, looking at me intently.

Good Lord, I thought to myself, if Roger only knew the half of it! I still couldn’t get over the fact that Brian had come on to me, and worse, that I had let him. I found myself sending a silent thank you up to the heavens that no one had seen us on Freddie’s staircase. I thought back to the look that Roger had given Brian when he caught him examining the scratch on my face out in front of Freddie’s building, and could only imagine what would have happened if he’d actually seen Brian kissing me.

“The only reason he was holding my hand was because he knew I was upset about you and Kim, and he was just trying to calm me down,” I quickly explained.

“And how exactly did he get you downstairs after the fight?” he asked.

“He carried me over his shoulder,” I replied, looking a little sheepish. “But he was just being a friend.”

“Yeah, a friend that was probably grabbing your arse all the way downstairs,” he argued.

“Now who’s being jealous?” I teased.

“Yeah, well, I’m telling you right now, if he touches you again, I’m liable to be the one throwing punches,” Roger said looking at the ground, the deep crease returning between his brows.

“It doesn’t matter to me whether he does or not,” I said, lifting Roger’s chin so that he looked at me. “Because you’re the one that I love, not Brian.”

Roger smiled at me then, his beautiful blue eyes sparkling.

“I love you too, you know,” he said. “Nobody else but you.”

He leaned in to kiss me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders, but stopped suddenly after only one kiss and looked down at what I had on. “It feels a little strange to be kissing someone that’s wearing my clothes I’ve got to say,” he laughed.

I’d forgotten that I was still wearing his black leather jacket. I wrapped it closer around me, lifting the collar up to my nose to breathe in Roger’s scent.

“I like wearing your clothes,” I said, “they smell like you.”

“Ugh, like cigarettes and sweat you mean,” Roger said, in a self-deprecating tone.

“Exactly,” I smiled, waggling my eyebrows at him.

Roger crinkled his nose a little and raised an eyebrow at me. “What are you saying? That cigarettes and sweat turn you on somehow?”

“Anything that reminds me of you turns me on,” I replied.

“You’re a dirty girl deep down aren’t you?” he laughed, scooting even closer to me. “Not that I’m complaining of course.”

I grinned and shrugged, neither confirming nor denying his accusation.

“Well, I do like the way my clothes look on you,” Roger breathed, grabbing the front of his jacket and pulling me toward him for another, deeper kiss.

I just laughed a deep throaty laugh, and remembered that I still had his black shirt hanging in my bathroom from earlier in the day. I quickly formed a plan and got up from the couch, taking Roger by the hand and leading him into my bedroom.

“You stay right here,” I told him, motioning toward my bed.

“I like this already,” he mumbled, lounging across my bed.

I went into my bathroom and closed the door, taking off all the clothes I had on and replacing them with nothing but Roger’s black shirt and jacket.

I opened the door, leaning casually against the doorjamb. Roger was still where I left him, chewing on a fingernail. As soon as he saw me though, the fingernail was instantly forgotten.

“Oh my God…” he breathed, mouth slightly open, his eyes dark with desire. He slowly sat up to get a better view.

I peeled his jacket off and casually tossed it on the back of a small wooden chair sitting in the corner of my room.

“Remember I wore this home this morning?” I purred, slowly unbuttoning his shirt one button at a time.

“I, uh, I remember now,” Roger stammered.

I walked toward him, still unbuttoning, until finally the shirt fell open revealing that I had nothing on underneath. I moved to take the shirt the rest of the way off, and Roger stopped me.

“No, leave it on,” he said, his voice sounding hoarse.

He got up and grabbed me around the waist, pulling me toward him for a fiery kiss. His hands roamed over my body as our tongues intertwined, my hands, as always, reaching for his gorgeous long blonde hair.

“God you are so hot,” Roger breathed, lifting me up in his arms and depositing me on my bed.

I laid on my back completely exposed, my hair splayed out on the pillow around my head, Roger’s shirt flowing open around me. Roger yanked the denim shirt he was wearing out of his pants and pulled it up over his head in one swift motion. He reached down then to tug his boots off, lost his balance, and toppled over onto the floor.

“Need some help?” I laughed, propping myself up on one elbow and peering over the edge of the bed.

“Nope, I got it,” Roger said, wrestling with his boots.

Soon they were off and tossed in two different directions around my bedroom. His pants were next, and in a matter of seconds, those, along with his underwear, were similarly disposed of.

Roger crawled back onto my bed, kissing my legs, starting with my ankles and working his way up. He gently pressed my legs further apart, finding the warm wet center between my thighs with his tongue. The room seemed to spin as I gasped for air, grasping at the blankets on my bed for support. Roger’s mouth worked magic, his warm tongue teasing and tasting me, finding places on my body that made me shiver with desire.

“Oh my God!” I cried, arching my back, as his middle finger darted inside me.

“You like that baby?” he breathed, looking up to see my reaction.

“I need to feel you inside me,” I gasped.

I didn’t have to tell him twice. He immediately positioned himself between my legs, thrusting his hard cock inside me, moaning with pleasure as my warmth and wetness enveloped him.

“Oh shit,” he groaned, his mouth closing over mine. He tasted like me, I realized, his tongue plunging into my mouth. His hair fell around my face as we kissed, and my hands instinctively reached up to touch it. I had never known how sexy long hair could truly be on a man until I met Roger.

Our bodies moved in unison, my hips rocking to meet his every thrust, both of us gasping and moaning with pleasure. He suddenly pressed his body into mine, wrapping his arms around me, and rolled over onto his back, taking me with him.

“Feel like being on top?” he asked, reaching up to bite and suck on my neck.

“Okay…” I said, not entirely sure of what to do, but hoping that my instincts would take over.

I rocked back onto my knees, propping myself up on my hands, and began moving over the top of him. Getting to see the look on his face was all the enticement I needed to keep going.

“Fuck,” he breathed, throwing his head back against the pillow. His eyebrows were drawn together, his mouth open gasping for air. I figured I must have been doing something right.

I continued to rock back and forth, with Roger’s hands grabbing my ass, helping to guide me along. It didn’t take long for his pleasure to reach a fever pitch. He wrapped his arms around me again and rolled me back onto my back, thrusting faster and harder, making me scream with desire. I could feel my climax coming fast.

“Oh God! Oh God, Roger!” I cried.

Roger pushed deeply inside me, groaning loudly as he reached his release.

“God I can’t get enough of you,” he sighed, trying to catch his breath. “I just want to fuck you all night.”

“Sounds good to me,” I panted, looking up at his sexy sweaty face.

“Really?” he breathed, smiling down at me, still propped up on his arms. “God I love you.”

The two of us rolled around on my bed, our sweaty bodies intertwined, kissing and talking until Roger was ready again. We spent the whole night repeating this pattern, having sex a grand total of five times. By the time the sun started to come up we were both weak and exhausted, and finally nodded off in each other’s arms.


	14. Chapter 14

It wasn’t until noon that I cracked my eyes open again. I looked next to me to find Roger sprawled across my bed, sound asleep, blankets strewn everywhere. He looked absolutely adorable lying there on his stomach, breathing heavily through his pouty little mouth, his hair sticking up at all angles. How could I have gotten so lucky? I found myself thinking. I wanted so badly to kiss him and wake him up, but I decided just to let him sleep while I went in and made some breakfast for the two of us.

I stopped off in the bathroom first to clean up a bit, and was shocked to see the bright red gash across my face when I looked in the mirror. Thoughts of the previous night came flooding back, along with an overwhelming sense of shame and regret. Although, I had to admit, the more I looked at the cut on my face, the happier I was that I had clocked that bitch and given her a black eye. I looked down at the knuckles on my left hand and was surprised to find that they weren’t black and blue. I did notice several other scratches along my arms, however, where Kim had dug her talons in. The more I thought about it, the more I came to the conclusion that she definitely got what she deserved.

I took a quick shower and dug around in my closet for the white bathrobe that I knew I had somewhere. Somehow I just didn’t feel like getting dressed until I absolutely had to. The fact that certain parts of my anatomy were sore, and that wearing tight jeans would likely only make them feel worse, may have contributed to my decision. Five times, I reminded myself. I couldn’t believe we’d had sex five times. Seven if you counted the night before as well.

I took one last look at Roger, who was still sleeping soundly, and made my way into the kitchen to put a pot of coffee on.

“What to make? What to make?” I muttered to myself as I looked through my cupboards, which were filled with an eclectic variety of both American and British foods. I found myself wondering if Roger had ever had good old fashioned American pancakes with maple syrup, so I pulled out my box of Bisquik and bottle of Log Cabin, which were amongst the American food items that I couldn’t live without, and started whipping up a batch. I measured out the Bisquik and milk, and was just about to add the eggs, when I heard the shower turn on in my bathroom. I figured that I had probably been making too much noise clanking mixing bowls and measuring cups around, and felt bad that I had woken Roger up.

I was about halfway through cooking the second skillet full of pancakes when the man himself came sauntering in with wet hair, wearing nothing but a towel and a big grin on his face.

“Good morning,” I smiled.

“You know, I could definitely get used to hearing you say good morning to me everyday,” Roger said, wrapping his arms around me from behind. “What are you making?”

“Pancakes,” I replied.

“Smells good,” said Roger.

He picked up the box of pancake mix on the counter next to me and started to read the front.

“Bisquik?” he questioned. “I’m not much of a cook, but I don’t remember seeing this product at the grocers before.”

“It’s American,” I explained. “So is the maple syrup.”

He put down the box of Bisquik and exchanged it for the bottle of Log Cabin.

“I called my mom when I realized that there were certain American food items that I couldn’t live without, so she sent me a big box full of some of my favorite things,” I said.

“Do people still live in log cabins in America?” Roger asked, studying the picture on the front of the bottle.

“I don’t know,” I laughed. “Maybe in back woods places like Arkansas. They certainly don’t in Fresno or San Francisco though.”

“What other kinds of strange food do you have?” Roger asked, putting down the bottle of syrup and opening kitchen cupboards to see what he could find.

“Strange?” I scoffed. “This is normal to me.”

“What is Crisco?” Roger asked, procuring the can from one of my cupboards.

“Shortening,” I answered. “Something that you Brits don’t have over here.”

Before I could stop him, I saw him reach into the can and eat a small dollop of the white, greasy substance off of his finger.

“Ugh! It tastes terrible! What is it?” he asked, putting the lid back on and shoving the offending item back into the cupboard.

I was laughing so hard I could barely answer him.

“You’re not supposed to eat it out of the can!” I choked out.

“Well what is it then? What do you do with it?”

“It’s vegetable fat, sort of like lard. I use it for oatmeal cookies and pie crusts and things,” I explained.

Roger, meanwhile, was raking his tongue across his teeth trying to get rid of the greasy residue.

“Here,” I laughed, reaching for a coffee mug in another cupboard. I poured out a cup of coffee and handed it to him. “Maybe this will get rid of the taste. That’s what you get for eating strange things without asking what they are first though.”

“I tell you what,” Roger said, taking a sip of coffee. “If you can make something with that stuff that actually comes out tasting nice, I will be seriously impressed.”

“Well, I guess I’ll have to make some of my famous oatmeal cookies for you then,” I smiled, flipping the last batch of pancakes.

I got a couple of plates down from the cupboard, gave Roger first choice of the pancakes, and slathered mine with butter and syrup. Roger watched me and followed suit. I apologized for not having an actual kitchen table to sit at, and told him that I generally ate at my coffee table while watching TV, so that’s exactly what we did. It was Sunday afternoon, and nothing was really on worth watching, so we settled on a BBC news program that was giving the highlights of recent soccer matches.

“So, what do you think?” I asked Roger, as I took a bite of pancake.

As fast as he was inhaling the stack that he’d put on his plate, I really didn’t think I needed to ask, but a little bit of praise never hurt anyone I figured.

“Fantastic,” he said, swallowing a mouthful and washing it down with a swig of coffee.

I was watching him eat, wondering if anyone ever fed him, when a knock sounded at my front door. Roger and I exchanged a puzzled look.

“Who in the world is knocking on my door on a Sunday afternoon?” I wondered out loud.

“Want me to answer it for you?” Roger offered.

“That’s okay,” I said. “It’s probably just Annie.”

I went to open the door, and was shocked to find Brian standing there.

“Brian, hi!” I managed to squeak out.

“I’m really sorry to just show up at your place like this,” Brian began, “but I found something of yours at Freddie’s last night after you left, and I thought it might be important.”

“Well, come in,” I said, holding the door open. It occurred to me belatedly that I was only wearing a bathrobe and nothing else. I tugged at the front of the robe, making sure that it was completely closed and that everything underneath was thoroughly hidden, before closing the front door with a quiet click.

“Hi Bri,” Roger called out from over on the couch, his mouth filled with pancake.

“Hi Rog,” Brian replied, looking slightly embarrassed. “I’m really sorry to intrude like this,” Brian said turning his attention to me.

“Don’t be silly,” I said, waving aside his concern. “Are you hungry?”

“Carrie made pancakes,” Roger said, proudly holding his plate in the air.

“They smell great, but I don’t want to interrupt your afternoon…”

“It’s fine,” I said, placing my hand in the small of his back and giving him a light shove into the living room. I could feel his muscles tighten slightly under my touch, and I instantly pulled my hand away. “Come sit down,” I went on quickly. “All we were doing was watching some boring news show anyway.”

Brian finally agreed to stay for a bit and sat next to Roger at the end of the couch. I went into the kitchen and put a couple of the pancakes on a plate for him, complete with butter and syrup, and brought them to him replete with a cup of coffee.

“It’s a little late in the day for breakfast,” I apologized, handing him the plate, “but we got a bit of a late start,” I said, giving Roger a smile and a wink.

“Oh, this is really sweet, thanks,” Brian said. “Can’t say that I’ve ever had American pancakes before.”

“If you don’t like them, don’t feel obligated to eat them,” I said, sitting back down on my own end of the couch.

“They’re very nice,” Brian said, taking a bite.

“My girlfriend can cook,” Roger preened, giving Brian a nod and a smile before shoveling another bite into his mouth.

“Well, after Carrie’s success with the margaritas last night, I’m not surprised,” Brian said, looking past Roger to give me a small smile. I couldn’t help but smile back.

“Oh, those drinks were good, babe,” Roger told me sincerely, completely missing the look that passed between Brian and me. “I couldn’t believe how you were just whipping out pots and pans and mixing things up on the stove. To be honest, I didn’t know that Freddie even owned any pots and pans.”

Brian and I both laughed, and then Brian asked me, “So what other kinds of things do you cook?”

“Well, I mostly like to bake,” I replied. “Things like cookies, cakes, pies, etc., and then I make various breakfast-y things, like pancakes, French toast, blueberry muffins, eggs, all that sort of stuff. When it comes to dinner fare, I make a pretty mean hamburger, or fried chicken, or roast beef, you know, whatever.”

“God, you’re making my mouth water just talking about it,” Roger sighed.

“Sounds like you’ve got yourself a pretty talented girlfriend, Rog,” Brian said quietly, taking another bite of his food.

I blushed at Brian’s compliment, and Roger suddenly became uncharacteristically quiet, not knowing whether he should thank his friend for his kindness, or be concerned that there might be something more behind the flattering remark. The awkward silence that followed was thick enough to cut with a knife.

I finally cleared my throat and asked Brian, “So what got left behind at Freddie’s last night?”

“Oh, right,” Brian remembered, reaching into his back pocket. “This must have fallen out of your handbag.”

“My passport!” I exclaimed. “How on earth did I miss that when I looked through my purse last night?”

“Well, it’s easy enough to miss, I suppose,” Brian allowed. “But I figured that it was important enough to bring it to you right away.”

“Thanks, I’m really glad you did,” I replied, setting it carefully on the coffee table where I’d be sure to see it later and remember to put it back in my purse.

“So did you stick around at Freddie’s last night after we left?” Roger asked Brian.

“For a bit,” he replied between bites of pancake.

“Was Freddie pissed off?” Roger asked with a smile.

“Actually, Freddie was okay. Mary, Kim and Jane were obviously a bit upset. Suffice it to say I don’t think we’ll be seeing Kim again anytime soon,” Brian laughed.

“Well, I can’t say that I’m sorry to hear that,” I said as I got up to take my plate to the kitchen. “Listen guys, there’s more pancakes if you want them, and more coffee. I’m going to go in and get dressed.”

I bent down briefly to give Roger a quick kiss on the top of his head. His hair was still damp, and he smelled like my citrus scented shampoo. I took my dirty dishes into the kitchen and then headed into my bedroom, closing the door most of the way, and paused just over the threshold as I heard my name being said in the living room. It occurred to me that I’d never actually had people sitting in my living room talking while I was in my bedroom, and the echo was astounding. It was as if Roger and Brian were right next to me, even though they were talking relatively quietly. I quickly filed this information away under the category “Useful Tools For Eavesdropping” and continued to listen at the door.

“So I take it everything is okay between you and Carrie?” I heard Brian ask Roger.

“Yeah, we’re fine,” Roger replied. I could hear his fork clinking against his plate and I assumed he was stabbing at another bite of pancake.

“After last night I wasn’t sure,” Brian said quietly.

Roger paused for a moment before saying around a mouthful of food, “She’s definitely got some jealously issues, but we’ll work through it. Did you see that left hook of hers?”

“How could I possibly have missed it? I think she missed her calling as a prize fighter,” Brian laughed.

I looked down at the knuckles on my left hand as I curled them into a fist, and couldn’t help smiling to myself.

“You know, her birthday is coming up,” Roger said, “and I’d really like to take her someplace to celebrate. I don’t think she’s seen much of England since she’s been here.”

“Oh, when is her birthday?” Brian asked with a sudden interest.

“The 23rd of March,” Roger answered.

“You do remember that we’ve got a show the following day, right?” Brian reminded him.

“Oh God, that’s right! The Forest Hill gig, I nearly forgot!” Roger exclaimed. “Well, we could be back by then.”

“Where are you thinking of taking her?” Brian asked.

“I don’t know. I was sort of thinking about going down to Brighton and mucking about for a day or two.”

“Brighton might be fun. Where would you stay?”

“That’s the problem. I don’t know if I’ve got enough money to pay for a room and everything else,” Roger lamented. “I was sort of wondering if you and Freddie wanted to go, and we could all split the cost.”

“All four of us in one room?” Brian questioned. “What would the sleeping arrangements be like?”

“I don’t know,” Roger answered. “Carrie and me in one bed, you and Freddie in another?”

“Ha ha, very funny,” Brian railed. “I’m not sleeping with Freddie.”

“Fine, I’ll find a place that has a sofa in the room or something,” Roger said impatiently. “We’ll figure it all out when we get there. So what do you think? Do you want to go or not?”

“I wouldn’t mind going, but a couple other problems come to mind,” Brian replied after a bit of thought. “First of all, it’s going to be difficult for you to be alone with Carrie if we’re all sharing a room, and secondly, are you sure you want Freddie along on a trip like this? I’m not sure that Carrie is overly fond of him at the moment.”

“I think it’ll be all right, they’re going to have to make up at some point, and you two will give Carrie and me some time alone, won’t you?”

“How much time alone?” Brian asked suspiciously. “I’m not going to help pay for a hotel room and then have to sleep out in the hallway because you want to have sex all night with your girlfriend.”

“No, no, no. It won’t be like that. Besides, we just did that last night,” Roger laughed.

I could practically feel Brian rolling his eyes at Roger as I stood on the other side of my bedroom door. If either of them could have seen me in that moment, they would have realized that I was shaking my head over my boyfriend’s lack of discretion with my hands planted firmly on my hips.

“How would we all get down there anyway?” Brian asked. “Your car only fits two.”

“Well, we could either pile up in your car, or we’d have to take two cars,” Roger said. “I’d pitch in for petrol if we take yours.”

“Well, you’ll have to ask Freddie and see if he wants to go, although I’m not sure Mary will be very happy about it after everything that happened last night,” Brian said.

“I’m pretty sure Freddie told me while we were at the market the other day that Mary is going to visit her parents next week, so that’s why I thought it might work out. Freddie would just be pulling his hair out with boredom anyway while she’s gone, and this would give him something to do.”

“As long as we’re back in time for the Forrest Hill gig, I guess I’m fine with it,” Brian said, setting his fork down on his plate with a light clatter.

“Excellent, it’s settled then,” Roger said happily. “I can’t wait to give Carrie the good news.”

Good news? I thought to myself. How was this good news? I just found out that I was going to be spending my special day at a hotel in Brighton with three men - one of which was my boyfriend, another of which I had recently been making out with on a staircase, and the third of which I was seriously angry with. How could this possibly turn out well?


	15. Chapter 15

Brian finished his pancakes, thanked me once again for my kindness, and then took his leave, giving Roger and me some much desired time alone. We spent the rest of the day on the couch in my flat eating, talking, making out, and occasionally watching TV. He told me all about his thoughts for the trip to Brighton, even though, unbeknownst to him, I already knew all about them. I listened patiently nonetheless, and sounded as excited over the prospect as I could, even though I had my doubts about spending two whole days with Freddie. Of course, I didn’t have the heart to tell Roger that, since he had obviously put a lot of thought into trying to make my birthday special.

I comforted myself with the thought that Brighton truly was a place that I had always wanted to see. It was, after all, the famous resort town of the early 19th century where the well to do went sea bathing, and the very place where the Prince Regent himself, the future King George IV, had built his palace. I couldn’t wait to see the streets, the shops, and the architecture, and pretend that, just for those two days, I too was a lady from the Regency era, strolling down the cobbled lanes with my reticule and parasol firmly in hand. If just for those reasons alone and no others, I was determined to have a good time on the trip, Freddie or no Freddie.

The next several days prior to the trip to Brighton were a little tiring to say the least. Although Roger or I neither one formally asked the other to move in with them, we spent each night from that point onward either at his place or mine, without either of us getting much sleep. Concentrating on school and homework was now almost impossible, and I was becoming concerned about whether or not I would actually pass my courses. It was well worth all the worries though, because I was waking up next to my golden blonde Adonis every morning. Not to mention the fact that I now got a ride to and from school most days, which was a definite perk. Riding around in a cute little Triumph next to a gorgeous blonde drummer always beat walking or having to ride the bus any day of the week!

It was at this point that we each realized the necessity of having a few personal effects at each other’s flats. Suddenly our bathroom sinks each boasted two toothbrushes instead of just one, and we each made a bit of space in our closets to house a few articles of the other person’s clothing. A pack of Marlboro cigarettes was now a permanent fixture next to the ashtray on my coffee table, and copies of all six Jane Austen novels along with a supply of Cadbury Dairy Milk bars were now an ever-present feature at Roger’s place. He made me a copy of the key to his flat, and I made him one for mine, which he proceeded to make a necklace out of, wearing it everywhere he went.

“It’s my good luck charm,” he told me. “A talisman against evil.”

I thought it was adorable. Freddie however, once he found out, thought it was revolting and accused me of “taming his drummer”. The fact that Roger was also spending less time at his and Freddie’s stall did little to help change Freddie’s opinion. Roger had begun leaving the stall a bit earlier every day so that we could spend more time together. Although, in my defense, I think I may have just been a handy excuse for Roger to break away from something that he was increasingly becoming bored with. He and Freddie had been business partners for so long at that point, that I wasn’t quite sure he had the heart to confess his lack of enthusiasm to his friend, at least not all at once.

The day before we left for Brighton, Roger picked me up from school and we went back to my place where he planned on spending the night. His suitcase was already at my flat, packed and ready to go. The weather had suddenly changed from freezing cold to unseasonably warm just in time for our trip, which was great news for travelling to Brighton, but not such great news for the day I’d spent at school wearing a thick sweater, jeans and boots. Yes, thanks to everyone’s advice, I had finally ditched the wool skirts once and for all, now I just needed to work on paying more attention to the weather forecast!

As soon as I got home I decided to take a quick shower so that I could change into something cooler. Roger offered to help me in the shower, but I reminded him that I wanted it to be a “quick” shower, and that if he were to join me it was liable to turn into an “all day” shower. Finally he relented, and I left him sitting on my couch, the TV remote in one hand, a cigarette in the other, sulking adorably.

When I got out of the shower a short time later, I could hear Roger talking on the phone in my living room, which at first didn’t overly concern me, since I figured he must have called Brian or Freddie or someone. Perhaps there was some detail about our trip the following day that needed to be ironed out. Then a few choice words registered in my brain, and I froze, completely naked, in my bedroom, my body only half dried.

“Yes, my name is Roger,” I could hear him saying. “Carrie’s boyfriend. Hasn’t she told you about me? We met about a month and a half ago. No, we don’t go to university together, I’m actually a drummer in a band called Queen. Yes, Queen. Um, she’s actually in the shower right now…”

I bolted for the living room stark naked, and made frantic motions for Roger to hand me the phone. Instead of immediately handing it over he just stared down at my body, mesmerized by the way my breasts shook as I danced around trying to grab the receiver out of his hand.

“Oh, here she is,” he said with a crooked grin. “I’ll just hand the phone over to her, shall I? Yes, it was very nice talking to you too. Right then, bye. Bye.”

Roger put his hand over the receiver and said to me, “Your mum seems very nice.”

I snatched the phone out of his hand, smacked his arm with it, and watched him laugh all the way back over to the couch. My only consolation was when I saw him casually reach up to rub his arm where I’d hit him.

“Hi Mom,” I sang into the phone. “Yes, that was Roger. Well, I’ve been meaning to tell you about him. Yes, he’s in a rock band. No, he’s not weird, Mom.”

Roger was laughing hysterically by this point, keeping his hand over his mouth so that my mother wouldn’t hear him.

“No, he doesn’t drink that much, Mom. Yes, he does have long hair. Um, we spend most of our time at each other’s flats. Well, I am going to be 22 in a couple of days, Mom. Yes, I’m still able to get my schoolwork done. Okay, fine, I’ll send you a picture of him. No, I don’t think I’ve developed an English accent. I sound English to you, huh? Yeah, all these English people are probably rubbing off on me. Well, I’d better get going, Mom, Roger and I are going out of town for my birthday tomorrow. Uh-huh, to a town called Brighton. Don’t worry, we’ll be careful. All right, sounds good. I’ll talk to you in a couple of days then, okay? Love you too. Bye.”

I plunked the receiver back down on the base, and turned to Roger. “You are in so much trouble!”

“What? Your phone rang, so I answered it!” he said innocently, grinning from ear to ear.

“That’s it!” I exclaimed. Naked or not, I grabbed a throw pillow off of the couch and started pummeling him with it.

Roger just laughed as he tried unsuccessfully to keep the pillow from smacking him in the head. He finally grabbed me around the waist and pulled me down onto the couch, pinning me underneath him. I kept trying to hit him with the pillow, but eventually he wrested it away from me, tossing it onto the floor.

“You have seriously violent tendencies, you know that?” Roger joked, pinning my arms above my head.

I pretended to struggle, not wanting to tell him how much he was actually turning me on.

“Only because you answered my phone when you weren’t supposed to!” I protested. “Now I’ve got a lot of explaining to do with my parents.”

“Your mum seemed very sweet,” Roger said. “She’s not really angry with you, is she?”

“Hopefully not,” I replied. “I doubt that she expected a drummer to answer my phone. You have to understand, my family is just… very conservative, that’s all.”

“How come you haven’t told your mum about me?” Roger asked, sounding a little hurt.

“Because, I wanted to make sure that we were serious before I told anyone in my family that we were dating.”

“And now do you consider us to be serious?” Roger questioned.

“I’m serious if you are,” I answered.

“Well, I’m serious if you are,” Roger smiled. He bent his head down and kissed me, still pressing my hands above my head. I was completely helpless beneath him. The feeling of his body dominating mine left me longing with desire.

Roger lifted his head suddenly and started laughing again.

“What?” I smiled.

“Did your mum really ask if I drank a lot?”

“Yes, she really did,” I laughed.

“Well, what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her I suppose,” Roger smiled, his lips finding mine once again.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

The next day we were up bright and early for our trip to Brighton, and for once, Roger and I had actually gotten enough sleep. Brian showed up at my place with Freddie in tow around ten o’clock ready to hit the road, but not before Freddie insisted upon seeing every nook and cranny of my flat. It was the first time that we’d seen each other since the incident at his place, and it seemed as though everything had blown over for the most part.

Freddie was his usual obnoxious self, rifling through my record collection, rummaging through the clothes in my closet, and making snide comments about the cleanliness of my bed after Roger and I had been sleeping in it. I was happy to see that everything seemed to have smoothed over between us, but I had a feeling that two days of his shenanigans were going to feel a lot more like twenty days, and we hadn’t even left my flat yet.

Roger and I grabbed our bags and I gave my flat the once over, making sure that everything was turned off, unplugged and locked up. We went downstairs to Brian’s waiting car, somehow managing to fit ourselves and all of our stuff inside of his tiny Mini, and headed off through the crowded streets of London with Brian and Freddie in the front seats and Roger and I in the back.

It took about an hour and a half to get from London to Brighton, but it seemed like a lot less time because the four of us were talking and laughing so much along the way. I learned a lot about the guys on our journey, including how Freddie had met Mary at the popular department store known as Biba, which was where Mary worked. I didn’t know much about the place other than the fact that they sold up to the minute fashions to young female customers along with trendy and chic items for the home. It explained a lot, actually, when I thought more about the décor of Freddie’s flat. 

I found out a little more about Brian as well, including some information regarding the girl he had recently broken up with named Chrissy. According to Freddie, she was a good little Catholic schoolgirl who was studying to be a teacher, and she and Brian had met at a Smile concert a few years before. Apparently they had had a bit of a tumultuous relationship before things had finally fallen apart around the beginning of February, right before I entered the picture. I could tell by the tone of Brian’s voice that it was still a little painful for him to talk about, and I suddenly found that I had an inexplicable urge to reach out to the front seat and give him a hug. I resisted, of course, and convinced myself that the only reason that I felt such an impulse at all was because Brian was always so kind to me. We were friends, after all, despite our illicit kisses in Freddie’s stairwell.

Soon all thoughts of hugging and kissing Brian were gone, however, replaced with images of Roger and a veritable harem of other girls. Thanks to Freddie and his big mouth, I learned more about some of the girls from Roger’s past, of which there seemed to be many. Faceless names like “Jill” from Truro or “Donna” from Chelsea were being bandied about in a teasing manner between Freddie and Brian, and I had no idea how much any or all of these girls had ever meant to Roger because he was staying mum on the subject. It sounded as though he had left a string of broken hearts stretching from London all the way to Cornwall though, and I couldn’t help but wonder how I would eventually end up fitting into such an extensive list. Were things genuinely different with me, the way that Roger claimed, or would I just end up being another notch on his proverbial bedpost? It wasn’t something that I found pleasant to consider since he’d been my first everything, and clearly, I hadn’t been his first anything. 

One interesting thing that I discovered along the way to Brighton was that the guys had been recording demo tapes of their music not long before I’d met them at a place called De Lane Lea Studios, one of the newest and most advanced recording studios in all of London. Since then, they’d been taking their tapes around to all of the major record labels, and were seriously looking to get a recording contract. I had no idea that they were already that far along in pursuing their goals as a band, and I couldn’t help but wonder where I would fit into the grander scheme of things once they obtained fame and fortune. Would I still mean as much to Roger if pretty, young, love-struck fans were suddenly throwing themselves at him? I found that I actually had my doubts on that score, and the realization of that stung.

We came into Brighton on the main road and I couldn’t help “oohing” and “aahing” as the Royal Pavilion, the palace of the Prince Regent himself, came into view on our right. Roger couldn’t understand why I was so interested, saying that it was just “some rich guy’s old pile”, so of course, I immediately went into a history lesson about the Georgian and Regency eras, providing everyone in the car with information on the Prince Regent, or “Prinny” as they usually referred to him in most of my romance novels, and all of his excesses. Brian listened patiently to what I had to say and tried his best to sound interested. Freddie, I discovered, actually had an affinity for the Georgian era and knew a bit about the Royal Pavilion himself, and Roger, being Roger, pretended to nod off as I went into detail about the Oriental influences of the palace’s design.

“Well, since Roger’s so interested, I think the first thing we should do is take a tour of the place, don’t you agree Carrie?” Freddie grinned.

“Well, we are supposed to be here for _my_ birthday if I remember correctly,” I drawled.

“Oh God, are you two actually going to make me go through that place?” Roger grumbled, suddenly very much awake once again, rubbing his forehead with the palm of his hand in frustration. 

“I think you’ll live,” I said sarcastically, patting Roger on his thigh.

“Not if I die of boredom,” he mumbled.

“How sad,” Freddie said to Brian, “the honeymoon is already over for these two.”

“Didn’t take long, did it?” Brian agreed.

I pulled my hand away from Roger’s leg and folded my arms across my chest, pretending to be angry, when really I knew that Roger was mostly teasing me. I stuck my chin out in mock defiance and turned away from him, looking pointedly out the car window instead.

“Okay, okay, I’ll go see Prinny’s Palace, or whatever the hell it was you called it,” Roger said, rolling his eyes. “It is _your_ birthday after all,” he said in exaggerated tones, his eyes sparkling mischievously all the while. He reached over and grabbed my arm, pulling me across the back seat until I was pressed against his side, his arm wrapped snugly around my shoulders.

“Well, first things first,” Brian said. “We need to find the hotel. What was the name of it again, Rog?”

“Er, Beach Hotel in Regency Square,” Roger replied.

“Ooh! Does it actually date back to the Regency?” I asked excitedly.

“They assured me over the phone that they’re one of the oldest hotels in Brighton,” Roger said, giving my shoulder a squeeze. “That was why I picked it.”

“See, I knew you loved me,” I grinned, reaching up to give him a quick kiss on the cheek.

The Beach Hotel, once we found it, ended up being amazing, at least as far as I was concerned. It was obvious that the building dated back to the early 19th century just by looking at the black iron railings and multitude of beautiful bow windows that it possessed. We went inside the lobby to check in and I drove the man behind the desk crazy with a barrage of questions about the place. I found out that the hotel was originally called the St. Alban’s Hotel, that it was built in 1828, and that the restaurant next door was originally a jewelry shop called Lawson & Son. I was so giddy over the prospect of staying in a historic hotel that I literally bounced up and down on the balls of my feet, clapping my hands with excitement like a five-year-old.

“I don’t know why this is so exciting to you,” Roger teased. “The building you live in in London is probably older than this.”

“I know, but this is Brighton! This is where all the fashionable people of the Regency era came to see and be seen!” I exclaimed. If I’d been trying to hide the depths of my geekdom from Roger up to that point, he was certainly well aware of it now. Luckily for me, he didn’t seem to be running away screaming. At least not yet.

We were given an old fashioned key to a room up on the second floor, and went upstairs to settle in. The room itself was relatively small, but suited our needs with two double-sized beds, a large dresser, a small writing table, and a recessed window seat that was more like the size of a small sofa. The décor was very reminiscent of the ocean outside with shades of pale blue and white gracing the walls and beds.

“I get to choose my bed first!” Freddie exclaimed bouncing onto the bed nearest the door followed by the bed closest to the window.

“Who says that _you’re_ getting the bed?” Brian grumbled, dragging in both his and Freddie’s suitcases. “I thought we agreed that we were going to flip a coin for it.”

“I’m just testing them out to see which one is more comfortable dear, that’s all, and it’s definitely this one,” Freddie said, flopping himself down on the bed closest to the door.

“Shouldn’t we let the birthday girl decide?” Roger asked, walking into the room last.

“It’s okay,” I said. “I’d rather have the bed by the window anyway.”

We went about the process of setting everything up just how we wanted it – suitcases in place, toiletries in the bathroom, clothes and jackets hanging in the small closet, etc. You would have thought that we were planning on staying for a month instead of just overnight. Then it was time to get out and start exploring. Luckily everything in Brighton was just a short walk away, so Freddie and I led the way toward the Royal Pavilion after obtaining a small map of the town from the front desk of our hotel.

The palace was incredible, and even though Roger protested, I could tell he was impressed by the sheer opulence of the magnificent building if nothing else. Every room was filled with vibrant colors and trimmed with gold. Oriental artwork, furniture and light fixtures graced every crack and crevice, and Chinese dragons watched over our progress from high up on the gilded ceiling above. I was sure that Freddie was mentally taking notes. He loved everything about the place, and told us how someday he would have artwork just as splendid in his own opulent home.

While Freddie was examining the antique Oriental vases littering the enormous banqueting room and Roger was studying the large Chinese tapestries hanging on the walls, Brian and I wandered off into the next room over, which, as we discovered, was the cavernous great kitchen.

“My God, look at the size of this place,” Brian’s voice echoed, as he took in the high vaulted ceilings, the massive wooden cutting tables and the iron columns sporting large imitation palm fronds at the tops.

“I like the artificial palm trees,” I laughed. “It’s funny to think that such things exist in England.”

“I suppose you see real palm trees quite often in California?” Brian asked.

“They literally grow like weeds,” I replied. “They’re all over the campus at Stanford.”

“I would think England would seem very boring to you by comparison,” Brian said, shaking his head slightly.

“Oh, on the contrary,” I assured him. “I actually find palm trees and sunshine quite boring. Too much of anything gets old after a while. England, on the other hand, with all of it’s historic architecture, quaint little pubs and funny accents is much more fascinating.”

“Are you saying that I have a funny accent?” Brian teased, grinning at me with his hands on his hips in mock defiance.

“Yes, I am!” I laughed.

“I’ve got news for you, _you’re_ the one with the accent, not me,” Brian said, leaning back against one of the long wooden cutting tables. “We English invented the language, you know.”

“Well then, we Americans perfected it,” I said defiantly.

“How so?” Brian asked, folding his arms across his chest. There was a sparkle in his bright hazel eyes, and I could tell that he was enjoying our lighthearted debate.

“Well, for one thing,” I began, leaning back against the table opposite Brian’s so that we were directly facing each other, “we pronounce the word ‘schedule’ properly, and we’ve also invented words that make much more sense than some of yours.”

“Such as?” Brian asked.

“Well, take the word sidewalk for instance,” I said. “You guys say pavement over here, which, really, if you think about it, could mean almost anything. Driveways are paved, streets are paved, walkways are paved… The word pavement doesn’t tell me anything specific about what I’m walking on. Now a sidewalk, on the other hand, is something you walk on that’s located at the side of the road, hence the name. It makes much more sense.”

“You’ve really given this a lot of thought, haven’t you?” Brian laughed.

“I have,” I admitted. “These are the kinds of ridiculous things that float around inside my head everyday, I’m afraid. It’s a strange world that I inhabit.”

“I understand completely,” Brian said. “My head is a very similar sort of place, only I tend to puzzle more over things like whether the space dust in the zodiacal cloud is made up of the tails of comets or collisions between asteroids.”

“If I had any idea what the zodiacal cloud was, I’m sure that I would be very impressed,” I grinned.

“It’s the subject matter that I’ve been working on for my thesis for quite some time,” Brian explained. “It’s a very long and tedious topic, really, and I wouldn’t want to bore you with it.”

“Oh, I doubt that you’d bore me,” I smiled. “It actually sounds fascinating. You’ll have to explain the whole thing to me one of these days.”

“Maybe I’ll take you up on that,” Brian said softly, the corners of his eyes crinkling with a warm smile that let me know how much it meant that I was taking an active interest in something that was so dear to him. He chuckled a little and added, “Although, I feel I must warn you, once you get me started on the subject matter, it’s very difficult to get me to stop talking again.”

“That’s okay, I’ll take my chances,” I laughed.

Our eyes locked onto one another’s, and we shared a heartfelt smile that seemed to span an eternity. Finally we tore our gazes away from each other’s to look down at the floor, an awkward silence filling the space between us.

“So, what do you think about this kitchen?” I asked at last, trying desperately to break the silence.

“It’s pretty impressive,” Brian replied, looking once more at our surroundings. “I can only imagine how many cooks must have been shuffling around in here 150 years ago, trying to prepare the massive feasts that George IV undoubtedly demanded.”

“And without modern stoves and ovens too,” I added.

The two of us turned then, as we heard someone enter the room and clear their throat.

“I was wondering where you two had gone off to,” Roger said solemnly, that familiar crease starting to form between his brows.

“Oh, we were just looking around the kitchen,” I replied airily. “We were discussing how many cooks it must have taken back in the day to appease the Prince Regent’s healthy appetite.”

“Mm,” Roger grunted. “Well, we should probably get going if you’ve seen everything that you wanted to see - Freddie’s threatening to steal a priceless Chinese vase from the banqueting hall.”

“Oh, right. Well, we wouldn’t want that,” I laughed. “Besides, I don’t know about you two, but I’m starting to get a little hungry.”

The others agreed, and we all decided to grab some lunch at one of the local pubs before going down to the beach.

The weather was unbelievably warm and sunny for March, and almost reminded me of a lovely spring day back home in California. We stopped off at our hotel room long enough to change into suitable beach attire, with the guys donning shorts and tank tops, and me wearing shorts and a bikini top, and then it was just a short jaunt down the road to the beach area near the west pier.

There we found a beach volleyball court where we could rent a ball for a nominal fee, and decided to form teams of two and play a match - Roger and me against Freddie and Brian. The odds were against Roger and me from the get go, since I was short and not exactly an athletic type of person. Freddie had the advantage, since he was the most athletic out of the four of us, and also had Brian’s height on his side.

Roger and Freddie decided that they were going to take the volleyball match very seriously and started making all sorts of absurd wagers over which of our teams was going to win. It started off small, with bets of things like a drink at a local pub to the winner of the game, and then escalated to the point where Freddie was demanding that Roger do all of his work at their stall for a week once Freddie beat him, and finally culminated in the ridiculous agreement that whoever lost would be forced to jump off of the west pier later that night completely naked. Brian and I shared a worried look from across the net, hoping that the two of them weren’t serious, and if they were, that we wouldn’t have to take part in something so ludicrous.

The whole game seemed like good fun at first, until Roger’s competitiveness really started to show. It was a side of him that I’d never seen before. I missed about three shots in a row, and it was clear that he wasn’t pleased. After the first missed shot, Roger just said it was okay, and that we’d get the next one. After the second miss, he started giving me lessons on how I should be hitting the ball. After the third miss, he pretended to strangle me.

“I’m not sure that I want to play on your team anymore!” I yelled at him jokingly. “You’re mean!”

“I’m mean?!” he yelled back. “Why? Because I want to win?”

“It’s just a game!” I countered.

“It’s not just a game, I’ve got a bet with Freddie!” he shouted. “I’d really rather not have to jump into the freezing waters of the English Channel tonight with no clothes on, so stop being afraid of the ball and hit the damn thing!”

“What happened to the nice guy who didn’t care whether or not we lost at pool at the Kensington?” I demanded, starting to feel a little hurt and annoyed by Roger’s attitude.

“That was different!” he said.

“Why? Because I hadn’t put out yet at that point?” I asked sarcastically.

“Probably,” he shrugged.

“ _Probably_?” I shot back. “So, what are you saying? Now that you’ve gotten what you want from me it somehow changes things?”

“I mean, I don’t have to work so hard to impress you anymore, do I?” Roger laughed.

Was this all a joke to him? I instantly froze, my heart plummeting to my feet as I just stared at him, trying to reconcile how he could say such a thing to me. He’d been acting strangely ever since we’d left the Royal Pavilion, and I couldn’t, for the life of me, figure out why. Whatever it was that was bothering him, though, I was sure as hell not going to be spoken to like I was some kind of slut who no longer deserved to be respected because I’d spread my legs for him.

Brian and Freddie stood on the opposite side of the net staring at the two of us, appearing as though they were also in a state of shock by Roger’s remarks, and unsure of what to say or do. I was trying my hardest not to cry. This was not the Roger that I knew. I didn’t know exactly who this Roger was, or what had possessed him to say something so horrible to me, but I didn’t feel like sticking around to try and figure it out.

“You know what? I think I’ll just go back to the hotel,” I said with a dismissive wave, as I turned to walk away.

“No you’re not! We’re in the middle of a game!” Roger shouted. He reached out to grab me, and snagged the string tie on the back of my bikini top instead, pulling it open.

I quickly reached up to grab the front of my top pressing it against my breasts before anyone saw anything I didn’t want them to.

“Roger!” I screamed, whirling around to face him. “What in the hell is wrong with you??”

Roger just chuckled and said “Oops! I didn’t mean to do that.”

“Well can you tie it again please? You know I can’t reach around to my back very well,” I pleaded.

“Leave it,” he smirked. “It looks good that way.”

I stood completely still for a moment just glaring at Roger, my breath coming out in short angry gasps as I tried to comprehend why my boyfriend was suddenly being such a jerk. Was this the real Roger? I wondered. Was the nice guy that I’d known for the last month and a half some sort of an illusion? Was this the kind of behavior that Brian had been trying to warn me about on the staircase at Freddie’s?

I’d been hoping not to cry in front of Freddie and Brian, but no matter how hard I fought back the tears, they fell completely of their own will down my red, incensed cheeks. I turned toward the hotel and walked away as fast as I could, hanging on to my top for dear life the whole way.

There had to be a train station somewhere nearby, I thought to myself. I would go back to the hotel room, pack my things, and ask the nice people at the front desk for directions to the nearest train station before it got any later in the day.

Somewhere in the back of my mind it registered that Brian and Freddie were both shouting at Roger behind me, but I was so busy trying to hold onto what little dignity I had left, that I couldn’t be bothered to actually listen to what was being said.

I got to the hotel and ran through the lobby and up the stairs as quickly as I could, before anyone could see me. It was then that I realized that I didn’t have the room key, Roger did. As if things couldn’t get any worse, I now had to go back downstairs to the front desk, practically topless, and ask for another key. I had never been so embarrassed in my entire life.


	16. Chapter 16

I took a deep breath and swiped at my tear-stained face as I turned back toward the hotel stairs, making my way down slowly and deliberately. I reached the front desk, and with all the dignity I could muster, explained that my clothing had torn and that I didn’t have my hotel key with me. Thankfully the man behind the desk was very understanding, and immediately went about procuring his copy of our room key for me. While I stood waiting, Brian suddenly came bursting into the hotel lobby with the room key dangling from his hand.

“Um, sir, thank you, but my friend is here with our key now,” I said to the clerk with a calmness that I most definitely did not feel.

I walked up to Brian and simply said, “Thank you,” and held out my hand for the key. Tears were still rolling down my cheeks despite the fact that I was trying so hard to make them stop.

“Come on,” Brian said softly. He wrapped his arm around me and walked me up the stairs to our room.

He unlocked the door and I scrambled inside, heading straight for my suitcase.

“Are you okay?” Brian asked, quietly shutting the door behind him.

“I’m fine. I’ll be fine,” I lied, rifling through the clothes in my suitcase with one hand while still clinging to my bikini top with the other.

“You’re not fine,” Brian said sympathetically, shaking his head slightly, as he walked across the room toward me. “Roger shouldn’t be treating you like that.”

He looked at me with those sweet, compassionate hazel eyes of his, and part of me just wanted to cling to him, to let him hold me while I cried on his shoulder. But I couldn’t. I had to be strong, I told myself.

“Brian, I need to change,” I said quietly, looking down at my suitcase as I pulled out a t-shirt and bra.

“Oh, um, okay,” he said, giving me a slightly puzzled look. “But, I can tie your top, if you need me to.”

“No, I need to change,” I said firmly. “I’ve got to get out of here.”

“Get out of here? What do you mean get out of here? Where are you going?” Brian asked with concern.

“I’m going to the train station,” I said decidedly. “I just want to go home.”

“No, no, I won’t hear of it,” Brian said, folding his arms across his chest defiantly. “You’re not going back to London on a train all by yourself. I would drive you back home myself before I would let you do that.”

“You wouldn’t mind?” I asked.

“Of course not,” Brian said considerately. “Although, I hate to see you go back home when you’re enjoying yourself here in Brighton.”

“I _was_ enjoying myself,” I replied. “Look, I don’t think I can stay here. I don’t even want to see Roger’s face right now.”

As if on cue, Roger walked into the room followed closely by Freddie. All I could do was glare at him.

“Brian, Freddie, I need a few minutes with Carrie,” Roger said quietly.

“Are you okay with that?” Brian asked me.

“I’m her boyfriend, why shouldn’t she be okay with it?” Roger demanded, glowering at Brian.

“You mean other than the fact that you acted like a complete arsehole while we were playing volleyball?” Brian shot venomously at Roger. “As I recall, this trip was meant to be for Carrie’s birthday, and the lady in question just got done telling me that she doesn’t want to see you right now.”

Brian moved dangerously close to Roger as he spoke, and I was beginning to worry that there might be an altercation between them if I didn’t say something quick.

“Brian, it’s okay,” I said, placing my hand on his arm. “I’ll talk to him.”

Brian looked imploringly into my eyes, clearly worried about whether or not he should leave. A look of complete helplessness flashed across his countenance as he nodded and turned, marching past Roger and taking Freddie with him out the door.

“Look, I’m sorry if I upset you,” Roger said, scowling at me from halfway across the room. “I was only joking out there.”

“You weren’t joking,” I stated firmly.

“Yes I was,” he argued. “I was going to tie your top for you, you know, before you ran off.”

“Roger, the fact that you untied my top was only a fraction of what upset me. You said some really nasty and hurtful things to me,” I said contemptuously.

“I swear I was joking!” Roger contended, closing the distance between us as he reached for my hands.

“Well, I don’t believe you,” I said, pulling away from him. “You insulted me, and humiliated me, and let me walk all the way back to the hotel with my top untied. I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life. Which is why I’m going home.”

“Going home?” Roger questioned, his eyebrows drawn together over his eyes.

“Yes,” I said, reaching to the back of my neck to untie the other set of strings on my top. I shoved my bikini top back into my suitcase, and began putting my bra on. “Brian offered to take me home when I told him that I didn’t want to stay. You and Freddie can stick around and have fun if you want until Brian gets back I guess.”

“Brian offered to take you home, what a surprise,” Roger muttered with a sardonic grin.

“He’s being kind to me, which is more than I can say for you,” I snapped back, tossing my t-shirt over my head.

“Look, you can’t go,” Roger went on, “this trip was meant for your birthday!”

“I don’t know what to tell you,” I shrugged. “You should have thought about that before you starting mouthing off while we were playing volleyball.”

Roger began to pace, running his hands through his already disheveled hair.

“God damn it! So I said something stupid, okay?” he shouted, sitting down hard on the end of our bed.

“Is that supposed to be some sort of an apology?” I sneered, as I reorganized the things in my suitcase.

“I forgave you when you went fucking mad at Freddie’s,” Roger persisted.

“True,” I answered, pausing in my reorganization efforts. “But the difference is that my anger wasn’t directed at you when we were at Freddie’s, it was directed at that stupid bitch Kim who was coming on to you all night, right under my nose. Yes, I may have gone a little crazy, but I had a reason to be upset. What possible reason could you have for talking so disrespectfully to me the way you just did?

“You want to know the truth?” Roger asked.

“That would be nice,” I said acerbically.

“It’s you and Brian!” he shouted.

“What?” I asked, unable to believe what I was hearing.

“I saw you and Brian talking at the Royal Pavilion,” Roger said. “I followed the two of you to the kitchen and listened to your entire conversation.”

“So…?” I drawled, not catching his point.

“So, you were flirting with each other,” Roger scowled. “The two of you went off together into another room, didn’t say a word to me, and when I find you, you’re bloody flirting with each other, right under _my_ nose as you might say!”

“What in the hell are you talking about?!” I exclaimed. “How were we flirting?”

“Oh come on,” Roger said exasperatedly, then, in a girly imitation of my American accent, he went on, “Oh, Brian, you’re going to have to tell me all about your vast knowledge of space dust in the zodiacal cloud one of these days!”

I practically snorted with laughter and rolled my eyes at him. “So we were talking about academic stuff, big deal!”

“Jesus, you don’t even get it…” Roger grumbled. “Don’t you realize how much you probably just made his head swell by telling him that you want to know all about the subject of his thesis? That’s practically an aphrodisiac where Brian’s concerned. You know he fancies you, and I’m starting to think you feel the same way about him. It’s obvious that the two of you have far more in common than you and I do.”

“Roger, I wasn’t flirting with him,” I contended. “And I honestly don’t think I have anything more in common with Brian than I do with you, so I don’t know where this is all coming from.”

“Well, look at it from my perspective,” Roger went on. “Why in the hell would someone as smart as you want to be with a fella like me who barely scraped through his biology degree, when you could have someone like Brian who’s as smart as you are?”

“You’re being ridiculous,” I said, walking over to sit next to him on the bed. “You are one of the smartest people I know. Colleges don’t just hand out biology degrees, you know, you have to earn them.”

Roger just stared at the floor and shook his head.

“Look, I don’t know what you think is going on between Brian and me, but I can assure you that it’s nothing. Talking to someone doesn’t constitute flirting with them, and even if I was flirting with him, which I wasn’t, it still wouldn’t give you the right to speak to me the way you did.”

“I didn’t mean to talk to you like that, okay?” Roger quietly said. “I honestly meant what I said as a joke, even if it didn’t sound that way. I would never want to treat you disrespectfully. Freddie and I just got carried away with the thought of winning a stupid bet, and I was already annoyed after seeing you and Brian...”

He took a deep breath, raked a hand through his hair and turned to me, reaching for my hands.

“Look, I’m being stupid,” Roger said, looking into my eyes. “I get that now. But I don’t want to lose you.”

“Roger, you really hurt me today…” I began.

“I know, I know…” Roger interrupted, pulling me into his arms. “I’m sorry. It’s never going to happen again, I swear.”

Somewhere deep in my gut I wasn’t entirely sure that I bought Roger’s reasons for his behavior. Nevertheless, I put my arms around him, and we held each other. At least he’d apologized for what he'd done, I had to give him credit for that.

He pulled away to kiss me, and as I looked into those big blue eyes of his, I knew that I couldn’t stay mad at him. I supposed that if he _had_ thought that I was flirting with Brian that that might explain his anger toward me, but it still didn’t excuse the way that he had dealt with that anger. If he’d truly been concerned that something was going on between Brian and me, all he had to do was take me aside and talk to me about it. Then again, communication wasn’t always a man’s strong point, I reminded myself.

I tried to put the leftover resentment that I felt out of my head, and closed my eyes, trying my best to forgive Roger as he kissed me. Before I knew it, we were stretched out on our bed, wrapped up in each other’s arms, kissing with a renewed sense of urgency and passion.

Okay, so maybe I was weak where Roger was concerned. I couldn’t help myself though. I’d never loved anybody the way that I loved him.

One piece at a time, our clothing was slowly peeled away. His tank top ended up on the floor along with his shorts and underwear, my t-shirt and bra landed somewhere near my suitcase, and my shorts and panties somehow managed to find their way to the other bed several feet away. Our first real argument had left us both desperate with desire. It almost felt our first time all over again.

Neither one of us was in any mood for foreplay. The sense of urgency to feel our bodies joined together was just too great. He plunged his hard cock deep inside me, and I whimpered with pleasure, wrapping my legs around him, pulling him in closer.

“Oh fuck yes,” Roger groaned, driving deep and hard inside of me.

Our bodies moved together in unison, my hips meeting his for every thrust. He bent his head down over my neck, nibbling and sucking on my sensitive flesh. I reached up to run my fingers through his hair, and then returned the favor by kissing and suckling on his neck and earlobe, the smell of cigarette smoke on his skin and the taste of salt and sweat filling my senses. He let out a ragged sigh and then pulled away from me slightly, propping himself up on his knees.

“Oh God!” I cried, as he lifted my legs into the air, pushing harder and faster as he grasped firmly onto my ankles.

I clung to the blankets on the bed, trying to catch my breath as pleasure like I’d never experienced rolled over me in waves. I suddenly had a favorite sex position, I decided. Although I’d already reached my climax, Roger wasn’t ready to give into his just yet.

“Roll over,” Roger commanded.

“What?” I asked breathlessly.

He grabbed me around the waist and quickly turned me over so that I was on all fours. He positioned himself behind me and thrust deep inside me again. The sensation left me gasping for air.

“Oh God! Oh my God!” I panted, feeling Roger’s body over the top of me, his ragged breath brushing against the dampened skin of my back.

“You like that?” he breathed.

“Yes,” I whimpered. “Oh my God, yes.”

Roger continued to drive hard and fast into me, making me moan and cry with every movement. I had never known sex with Roger to be quite so rough and passionate, but I certainly wasn’t complaining. If anything, I was already thinking ahead to later that night, trying to figure out how we could be alone and do it all over again.

“Oh baby,” Roger breathed, grasping me around the waist to roll me back into my original position. “I want to feel your legs around me again.”

In a flash, I was on my back again, Roger on top of me thrusting hard and fast, my legs wrapped tightly around his body.

“God, yes,” he moaned, reaching down to plunge his tongue into my mouth, his hair tickling my face, as he grasped my hands with his own, pinning them playfully above my head.

The sensation of his mouth and body dominating mine left me whimpering with desire. I could feel another release coming quickly, and I knew from experience that Roger was about to reach his climax too. We both called out each other’s names as he came deep inside of me, the two of us collapsing into a sweaty, tired heap on our bed.

We were jolted out of our state of afterglow by the sharp sound of someone’s hands clapping near the doorway of our hotel room. Roger bolted up so quickly that he fell off the side of the bed, while I reached down for the edge of the bedspread, yanking it swiftly over the top of my naked body.

“Bravo!” Freddie grinned, still clapping his hands. “You two missed your calling. You know, the good people who make pornography pay top dollar for an act like that.”

It wasn’t just Freddie standing in the doorway, but Brian as well, I realized. I simply wanted to curl up and die.

“When the hell did you two come in?” Roger demanded, popping his head up over the edge of the bed while pushing his hair out of his face.

“Oh, just before you got Carrie on all fours and did her from behind,” Freddie said casually, coming further into the room to sit on the next bed over. He picked up my panties (still lying where Roger had tossed them) and dangled them from one finger, turning his attention to Brian, who was still standing close to the doorway, looking every bit as embarrassed and uncomfortable as I felt. “Ooh, look what we have here, Brian, white with little pink hearts.”

“I take it you two have made up?” Brian said emotionlessly to Roger, completely ignoring Freddie.

“Yes,” Roger said simply. “Now can you leave us to get dressed please?”

“In a minute,” Freddie said, nonchalantly looking down at his fingernails. “Brian and I were thinking of going down to the Palace Pier if you two wanted to come.”

By this point, I had completely pulled the covers over my head, hoping that I could somehow just disappear. It felt like I was being deprived of oxygen under the thick blankets, but it was better than having to see the look on Brian’s face.

“By the way, darling, there’s no need to hide,” Freddie said to me. “Brian and I both saw you in action and were very impressed. Weren’t we Brian?”

“I’m going to wait for the rest of you downstairs in the lobby,” Brian said in a bitter tone. I kept the covers over my head as I listened to him leave.

“Yeah, Palace Pier, sounds great,” Roger nodded at Freddie. “Now if you’ll just go and let us get dressed…”

“Fine, fine,” Freddie said, waving Roger’s comment aside. “You and _Sexy Sadie_ here can just meet us downstairs whenever you’re ready.”

He got up and left the room, closing the door behind him, yet still I didn’t want to come out from under the covers.

“He’s gone,” Roger said, getting up from behind the bed.

“I know,” I said in a muffled voice from under the bed spread. Roger pulled the thick blanket away from my face, looking down at me with a furrowed brow.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Ask me again in about ten years when I’m done being mortified,” I answered, pulling the blanket over my face again.

“Don’t worry about it,” Roger soothed. “It’s not the first time Freddie and Brian have caught me with a girlfriend.”

“Oh, well, that makes me feel _loads_ better,” I moaned from under the covers.

“Come on,” Roger coaxed, pulling away the covers again. “Let’s go out and have some fun. There’s all kinds of rides on Palace Pier, and I’ll bet there’s even a sweets shop where we can buy you some chocolate.”

“Chocolate, huh?” I asked. I wasn’t sure if that would make up for the complete and utter mortification I would feel over having to see Freddie and Brian’s faces again, but then I supposed I couldn’t stay hidden under the covers forever. It was really their fault anyway for walking in on us, I reminded myself. So I plucked up as much courage as I could, and slithered out from underneath the covers, putting on the bravest face possible. I knew that the four of us sharing a room was going to be a bad idea, but I’d had no idea exactly how bad until that moment. It looked as though this was going to be a birthday that I would never forget for as long as I lived.


	17. Chapter 17

Roger and I both decided that we could use a quick shower before being presentable in a public place, and wandered off in the direction of the bathroom. We took a shower together under the guise of saving time and water, but of course, we ended up wasting more of both by the time we got done kissing and fooling around for a bit. As we quickly washed up, I noticed that Roger had a couple of hickeys on his neck, and I decided that I’d better point them out to him.

“A couple of what?” he asked with an alarmed look on his face, reaching up to feel his neck.

“Hickeys,” I answered, pointing to them.

Obviously he had no idea what I was talking about, because he just stared at me with a confused expression.

“You know…” I said, and then proceeded to make sucking noises with my lips against my arm.

“Oh! You mean love bites!”

“Is that what you call them over here?”

“It sounds a right lot better than whatever it was you called them!”

For once, he was right. I’d never exactly liked the word hickey. It sounded like a lethal concoction that somebody was trying to force you to drink. Or was I just thinking of the word mickey? It didn’t matter. Love bite or hickey, whatever a person called them, Roger discovered upon examining my neck more closely that I had a small one as well.

“Great, no doubt Freddie will take the piss out of us for this,” Roger said, shaking his head.

After our shower we got dressed quickly and headed down to the lobby to find Freddie and Brian lounging in a couple of chairs looking exceptionally bored.

“Finally!” Freddie exclaimed, leaping from his chair to walk toward us. “What the hell took you two so long?”

“We had to wash up a bit,” Roger explained.

“Well, you should’ve scrubbed a little harder, darling, you missed a couple spots,” Freddie grinned, examining Roger neck. His eagle eyes darted to my neck next, as he added, “Oh look, Carrie’s got one too!”

Roger and I just looked at each other and rolled our eyes, knowing full well that there had been no way in hell that our love bites were going to go unnoticed. Brian got up from his seat without saying a word, and led the way out the front door of the hotel with Freddie, Roger and me following right behind him. Roger pulled out a cigarette and lit it, and reached for my hand as we walked along the streets of Brighton enjoying the sunshine.

I noticed as we headed toward the famous Palace Pier that many of the older homes and buildings in the town had become run-down, if not flat out derelict. My heart ached to see such beautiful old structures in such a sad state of disrepair, and I found myself wondering what the fashionable people of Regency Brighton would think of the condition of their town in the year 1972.

As we got closer to the pier a variety of street vendors came into view, selling everything from fresh fruits and vegetables to artwork and pottery. The pungent smell of fish assailed our noses as we passed a man with a cart shelling and hawking a variety of freshly caught seafood. The sound of music grew louder and louder the closer we got to our destination, and soon the reason why became evident as we spotted a local rock band banging out a version of _Mustang Sally_ at the pier’s entrance. Roger started swinging my hand with his, and we danced and laughed our way across the pier’s old wooden planks.

Palace Pier was filled with typical carnival-like amusements. Rides, games and vendors filled every square inch of space, along with a large theatre that boasted a variety of live shows. Our first stop was a horse race game where the players had to roll balls into numbered holes, similar to skeet ball, in order to make the horses go faster. The higher the number rolled, the faster your horse ran. It was just the four of us playing, and we were all fervently trying to outdo each other and roll the highest number. Brian was still relatively quiet after everything that had happened in the hotel room, but I could tell that he was slowly coming around. Freddie, on the other hand, who happened to be sitting to my left, made sure that he kept “accidentally” bumping into my elbow nearly every time I tried to roll a ball, and laughed uncontrollably each time that he succeeded in ruining my shot. Roger ended up winning, much to Freddie and Brian’s chagrin, and walked away with a small teddy bear for his efforts, which he gave to me, and then off we all went toward our next adventure.

I spotted some bumper cars, which were apparently called “Dodgems” in England, and suggested that we ride those next. Everyone agreed, and we spent the next several minutes waiting in line for five minutes worth of back pain and whiplash. It was finally my chance to get Freddie back for all of his snide remarks over the last month and a half, not to mention the recent elbow bumping at the horserace game, and I took every opportunity to ram into him as hard as I could. Brian and Roger, likewise, seemed to be determined to take out their frustration with each other in a similar fashion by slamming repeatedly into each other’s cars, and swearing loudly every time a direct hit was made. I was happy to see that it seemed to bring a slight smile back to Brian’s face if nothing else.

Next we were off to Roger’s recommendation of a giant slide called a Helter Skelter, which I wasn’t quite sure that I was up for. I’d never seen anything like it in the States before. The whole thing consisted of an enormous lighthouse, at least three stories high, with what was apparently the slide itself wrapped around the outside from top to bottom. As someone who’s terrified of heights, I felt a little queasy just looking at the monstrous thing.

“Uh, I don’t know about this one…” I said, stopping mid-stride as we approached the ride.

Roger, who was holding my hand, was forced to stop, and looked back at me with a crooked grin.

“It’s just a slide,” he said.

“Yes, but it’s a very tall slide, and I’m not a big fan of heights,” I said as I craned my neck back, trying to see where the slide began.

“Come on, you’ll be fine,” Roger persuaded, giving my hand a tug and forcing me to walk with him. “I’ll protect you.”

The inside of the lighthouse held a large spiral staircase that we had to climb in order to get to the top. Freddie went first followed by Brian, whose backside was in my face the whole way up the stairs, then me, with Roger bringing up the rear. I could see the remains of daylight shining through a doorway at the top of the stairs, and watched as Freddie then Brian each disappeared through the door laughing and shouting as they clattered down the long curving slide on the outside of the building. I cautiously peeped my head out the door, and swayed slightly when I saw how high up I was.

“Oh no. I can’t do this,” I said turning back to Roger.

“Come on, it’s gonna be fun!” Roger said, snatching me up around the waist and joining me at the top of the stairs. “I’ll go down with you.”

The two of us sat down at the top of the slide, me between Roger’s legs, as Roger pushed us forward with the palms of his hands.

“Oh my God, oh my God,” I mumbled, covering my eyes with my hands.

Next thing I knew we were flying down the slide at a break-neck speed, my hands flying from my eyes to Roger’s arms, which were wrapped tightly around me. I held on for dear life, my fingernails digging into Roger’s skin, as I screamed like a child all the way down. I could barely hear Roger laughing behind me over the sound of my own voice ringing in my ears.

When we reached the bottom, Freddie and Brian were laughing hysterically.

“My God! Is your throat bleeding?” Freddie choked out. “We could hear you screaming all the way down!”

“I told Roger that I didn’t want to go on that thing!” I exclaimed.

Roger was busy examining his arms, and looked up at me, saying, “I think you left claw marks on my arms, woman.”

“That’s what you get for making me go on that stupid ride!” I said, smacking Roger playfully in the gut.

Roger just laughed and wrapped an arm around me, casually leading me off to our next bit of fun.

Brian found a dart game where you had to pop balloons in order to win a prize, and challenged the other two to a competition. Roger, as it turned out, was much better at rolling balls in the horse race game than he was at throwing darts. Freddie managed to hit a couple of balloons, but Brian took the prize, popping six in all. He won a small stuffed penguin, which he seemed to be delighted with, since penguins were one of his favorite animals. Roger and Freddie, of course, had to give him a bad time over wanting to keep the “doll” he’d won, but I was happy to see that he was having a good time after everything that had happened earlier in the day.

Soon the sun had set, and the entire pier was lit up with a million multi-colored lights. I mentioned that I was getting hungry, and all three of the guys agreed that they were too. Brian said that the pier was known for having some of the best fish ‘n’ chips in all of England, so we decided to make that our dinner. Afterwards we strolled around, looking through some of the various shops that the pier had to offer. Most of them afforded little more than touristy things like shot glasses or ashtrays emblazoned with the word “Brighton” in big letters, showing pictures of famous landmarks like the Palace Pier or the Royal Pavilion, but there were a couple of odd places like a tattoo parlor and palm reader that caught our attention and compelled us to stop and peek through the windows, just to see what the patrons inside were up to.

One place that Roger decided he wanted to check out more thoroughly was a small jewelry shop specializing in sterling silver. I knew that he liked silver jewelry, so this didn’t come as much of a surprise. The four of us walked inside and looked around a bit, but Freddie, Brian and I didn’t find much to interest us, so we left Roger inside while the three of us went to the candy shop next door. As candy shops went (or I suppose I should say “sweets” shops) it wasn’t the greatest I’d ever seen. I missed the caramel apples and salt water taffy that I would have found at a similar shop back home. I did, however, find some decent looking fudge chocked full of English walnuts and some toffee that looked as though it would melt in my mouth that I absolutely had to purchase, so all in all, I supposed I couldn’t complain too much.

When we were done in the candy shop, Freddie, Brian and I went to sit on a wooden bench just across from the jewelry shop to wait for Roger. I dug into my bag of toffee and fudge, offering some to both Freddie and Brian, and the three of us sat talking and eating for several minutes, when Roger finally came wandering out holding a small white box. He walked toward me with a spring in his step and an enormous grin on his face.

“I got you a present,” he said, handing me the box as he knelt down in front of me.

Brian, Freddie and I all stared wide-eyed and open-mouthed at Roger, wondering what in the world he was up to. Roger glanced around at everyone’s stunned expressions, and realized suddenly how things must have looked. He was kneeling down and handing me a jewelry box after all.

“Oh, it’s nothing like that,” he said quickly. “It’s just a little something to say I’m sorry for the way I behaved today.”

I opened the box and saw a silver ID bracelet lying amongst the folds of fabric and tissue. I noticed that there was something engraved on it, so I picked it up and held it to the light. It had one word etched across the front in a large flowery script - “Roger”.

“I got one too, see,” Roger said, showing me his arm. A shiny new ID bracelet just like the one I was holding dangled from his wrist. “Mine says ‘Carrie’ and yours says ‘Roger’. Now everyone will know that we belong together.”

“Roger, this is so sweet,” I said, feeling as though my heart might burst as I held the shiny trinket up to the light to get a better look. “I love it.”

“Happy birthday baby,” he said, leaning in to give me a kiss. “Here, let me help you put it on.”

“Oh my God, Roger! You’re just so sweet!” Freddie wailed in a mocking voice, wiping at fake tears, while Roger clasped the bracelet around my wrist.

“Shut up,” Roger grumbled at his friend under his breath.

Brian, I noticed, didn’t say anything at all, and just continued quietly chewing away at the toffee I’d given him as he looked vaguely in another direction.

Once the bracelets were in place and securely fastened, we decided to walk around a bit more, going on a few more rides and playing a few more games, with Roger and I taking every opportunity to hug and kiss and thoroughly nauseate Brian and Freddie. I kept looking down at my wrist, watching with fascination as the light glinted off of my shiny silver bracelet. It was the first real gift that Roger had ever given me, and I made a vow to myself then and there that I was never going to take it off.

Eventually we all got tired of the thrills that the pier had to offer, so we decided to head back into the main part of the town and see what other kinds of amusements we could find.

We were walking along King’s Road, which fronted the beach, Brian and Freddie walking side-by-side talking, and Roger and I doing the same behind them, when we heard a group of kids making a lot of noise near the shoreline up ahead. I didn’t pay much attention at first, because kids making noise on the streets of England late at night was about as common as a pub on every corner. It wasn’t until I noticed Freddie and Brian putting their heads together, frantically whispering to one another that I knew something was up.

“Shit,” Brian mumbled. He turned back to Roger and me and said, “I think we’re going to have a bit of trouble if we don’t get out of here.”

“What’s going on?” Roger asked, craning his neck to see what all the commotion was about. I watched the smile fade from his face as he suddenly turned an ashen white and said, “Oh fuck, don’t tell me those are…”

“Skinheads,” Brian confirmed.

“What are skinheads?” I asked, not liking the worried looks on the guys’ faces.

“People who don’t particularly care for long-haired weirdos like us,” Brian replied.

“We’ve had run-ins with them before where they’ve threatened to do us bodily harm,” Roger explained.

“Oh my God!” I gasped. “What are we going to do?”

“Let’s just casually walk over to the other side of the street, shall we?” Freddie suggested. “Then maybe we can move away down a side street.”

We all did as Freddie advised, but it was too late. Just the fact that we were obviously trying to avoid them got their attention.

“Ooh, there’s a sweet little piece of arse!” one of them called out.

“Which one?” another replied. “They all look like girls to me!”

“Hey blondie! Why don’t you ditch that hippy boyfriend of yours and come see what a real man is like!”

Roger was grinding his teeth and clenching his fists. “I’m gonna kill ‘em. I’m gonna go over and fucking kill ‘em,” he mumbled.

Brian turned, looking sharply at Roger. “Roger, there’s at least 7 or 8 of them, _don’t_ do anything stupid,” he admonished.

“You know what boys? I think they’re ignoring us!” one of the skinheads shouted.

“Maybe we need to go teach ‘em some manners!” another one yelled.

Roger looked over his shoulder and realized that they were moving toward us. “Here they come.”

“We’ve got to get out of here,” Brian said with panic in his voice.

Freddie and Brian starting walking faster, and Roger grasped my hand even tighter, as he dragged me along in his wake. I had to practically jog to keep up with the three of them. We darted down a side street, moving at a pretty decent clip, but when I looked back, the gang of skinheads was still in hot pursuit and gaining on us all the time.

“Guys, what are we going to do?” I asked in a worried voice.

The thought of what these characters would do to Roger, Brian or Freddie if they got ahold of them was bad enough, but the thought of what they might potentially do to me if Roger, Brian and Freddie were out of commission was utterly horrifying.

“Come on,” Roger said, tightening his grip on my hand. He took off running around Freddie and Brian, dragging me with him. I struggled to keep up, but short little 5’3” me couldn’t quite keep pace with Roger’s taller 5’10” frame. Brian and Freddie were right behind us as we darted down narrow alleyways and side streets trying to outrun the determined thugs behind us.

I turned around again and saw that the miscreants were getting ever closer, and said as much to the guys. We had to think of something quick.

We came to the end of the street we’d turned down, which dead-ended onto another street, and Roger spotted something to his left.

“In here!” he yelled.

He pulled me toward the open gate of a nearby church graveyard. It was pitch black and had lots of nooks and crannies and large headstones to hide behind. It was perfect. All four of us raced inside and crouched behind ancient tombs and crumbling gravestones, peeking our heads out just enough to keep a watchful eye out for our assailants. We watched as the skinheads came screeching to a halt where the street dead-ended, looking left and right, trying to figure out which way we’d gone.

“I think I saw them go that way!” one of them shouted, pointing to his right. That seemed to be good enough information for everyone else in the gang, and they all turned to their right, running down the street chasing non-existent shadows.

All four of us looked at each other, well, what we could see of each other in the darkness anyway, and breathed a sigh of relief.

“We’d better stay here for a few minutes and make sure they don’t come back,” Brian whispered from somewhere to my left, and everyone agreed.

“Fucking wankers,” Freddie grumbled. “It’s like Liverpool all over again.”

“What happened in Liverpool?” I asked.

“We were playing a show there, and encountered a group of skinheads, just like these, as we were walking through the streets,” Roger told me.

“What did you guys do?”

“Roger very cleverly told them that he was a black belt in Judo, and that, by law, he had to inform them that he had the ability to kill them with his bare hands,” Freddie snickered.

“No you didn’t,” I said disbelievingly to Roger.

“I did,” Roger answered with a smug smile.

“The unbelievable part was that it actually worked,” Brian added.

“Maybe we should have tried that tonight,” I suggested.

“I don’t know,” Brian said with a shake of his head, peering around the headstone he was hiding behind. “This group tonight seemed a lot more vicious than the ones in Liverpool.”

“The Liverpool skinheads were incredibly stupid,” Roger agreed.

“So do you think those guys are gone now?” I asked tentatively, turning to peek over the top of the moldering stone tomb that I sat hidden behind.

Then, before anybody could answer me, the sudden sound of organ music made the four of us whirl our heads around. It was coming from inside the nearby church, and sounded like something straight out of _Phantom of The Opera_.

“As if this graveyard wasn’t creepy enough,” I mumbled, looking toward the old stone building. A sudden chill ran down my spine. The windows of the church seemed relatively dark. I found myself wondering how anyone of the human realm could possibly see well enough to play, as visions of organ keys being pressed by unseen ghostly fingers flashed through my overly active imagination. “I seriously hope there’s an actual person inside that church playing.”

Roger obviously sensed that I was a little unnerved, and teasingly said, “I don’t know. There are lots of ghosts in England. Could be one of them playing.”

“All right, well, I think it’s time to go,” I said, my hair standing on end, as I quickly got up from the ground and dusted myself off.

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little organ music,” Roger grinned, rising up from his crouching position behind a crooked and cracked headstone. He crept up next me, tickling my sides as he made ghost like noises in my ear.

“Stop it,” I said, shoving at his hands. “And I’m not scared… I just think it’s getting late, that’s all.” 

A shadowy figure moved through the graves to my left, and I nearly screamed, when I realized that it was just Brian attempting to peek in one of the church windows. Freddie followed suit, and of course, whatever Freddie and Brian did, Roger had to do too. I stood back watching all three of them standing on their tip-toes, peering through the windows like school boys doing something naughty and hoping not to get caught by the headmaster.

“What do you guys see?” I asked, joining them near the side of the church. There was no point in my attempting to see through any of the windows since I was roughly the height of a 12 year old.

“Let’s see, severed heads, clanking chains…” Roger replied.

“A bloody axe and a headless ghost…” Brian chimed in.

“Vampires, werewolves, mummies…” Freddie added.

“Ha ha, very funny,” I said caustically, folding my arms across my chest defiantly. Okay, so maybe I deserved to be teased a little for letting my imagination run away with me. This was what I got for watching one too many episodes of _Scooby-Doo_ back home. For once I actually wished that I were taller so that I could peer inside one of the church windows too. It wasn’t fair that the guys got to have all the fun.

Roger seemed to sense my feeling of abandonment and turned to me, saying, “Here, you want to see inside?”

Before I could answer, he wrapped his arms around my waist and lifted me up so that I had a clear view of the inside of the church. My eyes focused on the single light that was shining at the far left end, and it became apparent that the creepy music was nothing more than what appeared to be the local vicar practicing the organ for Sunday’s service. No wailing ghosts or severed heads or clanking chains.

“Well, that’s a little disappointing,” I admitted.

Roger just laughed and set me back down.

“Has anyone ever told you that you have a wild imagination?” Roger teased, wrapping me up in his arms for a quick hug.

“It may have come up a time or two,” I answered a little sheepishly.

“Well, what do you reckon, fellas?” Brian suddenly interjected, as he and Freddie left their posts at the church windows to gather near Roger and me. “Think we’re safe to leave now?”

“Yeah, those idiots are long gone,” Freddie said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“Come on, let’s go get a drink somewhere,” Roger suggested.

We left the graveyard and headed in the opposite direction from the way the skinheads had gone. Within minutes, we ran across a small liquor store that was open late, and went inside. They had a surprising array of alcohol to choose from considering that the place was nothing more than a hole-in-the-wall, and immediately, Freddie set his sights on the various wines that they had to offer. He selected a couple of bottles of red and a bottle of white while I searched for some disposable cups and a cheap corkscrew. We hauled our loot up to the register where we all pooled our money together to pay for it, and headed off into the night in the general direction of our hotel.

Freddie wasted no time in opening one of the bottles of red, and the four of us proceeded to pass it around, taking swigs of the sweet liquid like drunken sailors all the way back to the hotel. By the time we arrived the bottle was empty, and we were starting to feel a little silly. With two more bottles left to go, and four of us sharing one room, I figured we had the recipe for an interesting night.


	18. Chapter 18

We stumbled up the stairs to our room, and Freddie immediately opened the other two bottles of wine. Roger tore open the box of disposable paper cups, and we each filled one to the brim with white wine, chuckling at the complete lack of sound that the cups made when we clinked them together. It was only 11:30, meaning that the night was still very young, so Brian pulled a small radio out of his suitcase, plugged it in and turned it on, providing us with a bit of entertainment. He turned the large round knob on the front a little to the left, then a little to the right, until he finally found a station. The sound of the Carpenters singing _For All We Know_ filled the room, and we all let out an audible groan. Then I remembered that I’d brought the photos that I’d taken at their last concert with me, so I procured the packet of pictures from my suitcase, and the four of us sat on the spare bed getting drunker by the minute as we looked through them.

We laughed at the ones of Freddie backstage jumping in front of the camera while Brian tried to take a picture of Roger and me, and Brian and Freddie rolled their eyes at the pictures that Roger and I had taken of each other, particularly the ones of the two of us the morning after we’d spent the night together for the first time. All three of the guys loved the live shots I’d taken, even though Freddie and Brian complained profusely that there were too many of Roger.

“What do you expect? He’s not exactly hard on the eyes,” I smirked, exchanging a look and a smile with Roger.

“Well I’m far better looking than Roger,” Freddie slurred. “I mean look at my hair in this picture alone. Absolutely gorgeous!”

I just snorted in response.

“Speaking of hair,” Brian said, as he examined one of the live shots of himself more closely. “Does my hair always look this wild when I’m on stage?”

“Most of the time,” Roger said, leaning over to examine the picture in question as Brian held it up.

“Good Lord…” Brian said in dismay, reaching up in an attempt to flatten his curls a little as he continued to gaze at the photo. “Maybe I need to cut my hair a bit.”

“No, absolutely not!” I said emphatically. Roger, Brian and Freddie instantly looked my way, and I realized too late that I’d sounded a little too vehement with my opinion. I blushed a little and quickly added, “I mean, your hair is sort of your trademark, right? You wouldn’t want to cut it and lose that.”

Roger raised an eyebrow in my direction and I decided that I’d better just shut up, as I took a nice long sip of wine. Brian flashed me a crooked grin before turning his attention back to the pictures, and I knew that I’d made it a little too obvious how much I liked his hair. Damn it! I thought. What was wrong with me? I shouldn’t be having thoughts about Brian’s hair at all, and if I was going to, I definitely shouldn’t state my opinions about it right in front of my boyfriend! Roger had already voiced his suspicions that he thought I was starting to have feelings for Brian as it was, which was ridiculous. It must be the wine talking, I decided. I clearly needed to slow down on the wine intake.

Roger cleared his throat and decided to change the subject completely as he held up one of the Freddie-free pictures of the two of us backstage and said, “I’d like a copy of this photo right here.” 

“I can do that,” I said, relieved that we were done talking about Brian’s irresistible curls. “In fact, I’ll make copies of some of the better live shots for all you guys.”

We continued to chat and drink and look through the pictures, and soon another bottle of wine was completely consumed as we started working on the last bottle of red.

The song _Ain’t No Mountain High Enough_ by Diana Ross came on the radio, and Freddie, being thoroughly sauced already, began singing loudly with the lyrics. It didn’t take long before Brian and Roger formed The Supremes with him, and joined in on backing harmonies. I was laughing so hard at their attempts to sing like girls, that my sides ached and tears began streaming from my eyes.

“Come on, Carrie! Join in!” Freddie instructed, bouncing off of the bed onto his feet, dragging me with him as he whirled me around the room, still singing loudly.

I laughed, even though the spinning motion made me feel a little nauseated thanks to the wine, and protested, “No, no! I don’t sing!”

“Oh come on!” Freddie insisted. “ _Ain’t no mountain high enough…. Ain’t no valley low enough…_ ”

“No, I promise you, you do not want to hear me sing!” I cried.

Thankfully the song ended shortly thereafter, and Freddie released me, falling drunkenly back onto the bed next to a sleepy eyed Brian, who was still examining the live shots I’d taken in detail, holding one of the pictures perilously close to the end of his nose. I planted myself on the edge of the bed that I was sharing with Roger, hoping that if I sat still for a minute, perhaps the room would stop spinning.

Roger was sprawled across the end of the other bed, tapping his fingers on his chest to the fading rhythm of the Diana Ross song, when one of my all-time favorites came on the radio next - _Bell Bottomed Blues_ by Derek and The Dominos.

“Oh, I love this song,” I sighed.

“Really?” Roger asked, lifting his head to look at me as I bobbed my head along to Eric Clapton’s masterful guitar riff. He rolled off the bed, clumsily stood up, and shuffled across the few feet that separated us, holding his hand out to me. It took me a second to register what he wanted me to do, but then I smiled up at him, taking his hand and sliding off the bed. Roger pulled me in for a warm embrace, and we stood in the small space of floor between the beds and slow danced as he sang quietly along with the lyrics. It was a sweet, romantic moment, the kind of moment that you want to go on forever. The feel of my hand enclosed within his, the gentle pressure of his arm around my waist, the sensation of our warm bodies swaying drunkenly to the beat of the music - it was pure magic.

“You know, I think this is the first time I’ve ever really gotten to hear you sing just by yourself,” I whispered, tipping my head back to look up at him.

“Is it?” he asked.

“Mm-hmm,” I mumbled.

“And?” Roger pressed.

“And I think you’ve got a very sexy voice,” I grinned.

He smiled and lowered his head to kiss me, the two of us dancing all the while. I never wanted the song to end. I wanted to suspend time and space and just stay in that moment for the rest of my life.

I leaned my cheek against Roger’s chest and felt his heart beating through his shirt. The sound of his breathing beneath my ear and the warmth of his skin made him feel more real to me in that moment than all of our nights of intimacy combined. How did I ever live without this man? I wondered. And how would I ever do without him again?

Being slightly emotional already from the large quantity of wine that I’d consumed, my fears of life after King’s College came to the forefront of my mind, and I wasn’t surprised to find a tear rolling down my cheek when the song finally came to an end.

“Are you okay?” Roger asked, tipping my chin up. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I said, swiping irritably at my face. “I’m just being silly.”

“You’re crying. Something’s wrong.”

“Really, I’m fine,” I said. “It’s a girl thing. Sometimes we just cry for no reason.”

I chastised myself mentally for acting like a drunken watering pot in front of the guys. First they’d seen me crying earlier in the day over Roger’s antics on the volleyball court, and now this. There was nothing I hated more than looking like a weak, vulnerable female in front of other people.

Roger studied me with his eyes slightly glazed over from the wine and his eyebrows drawn together. He looked toward the window briefly, and nodded vaguely toward the world outside, asking me, “Feel like going for a walk?”

“After what happened earlier with the skinheads, do you think that’s wise?” I asked. “What if they’re still out there?”

“I think we’ll be fine,” Roger said. “Although, it’s probably getting a bit chilly by now. We may want to change.”

We each took turns going into the bathroom to change into jeans and sweatshirts, told Freddie and Brian that we’d be back shortly, and then headed out into the cold night air, walking toward the beach and Brighton’s old west pier. Neither of us said much as we shuffled down the sidewalk arm in arm. It only took a few minutes to get to the west pier, a place that was once as modern and exciting as the Palace Pier, but was now derelict and decaying with disuse.

Roger lit up a cigarette as we stood side by side at the edge of the pier, our elbows propped up on the old wooden railing as we looked out over the churning waters of the English Channel.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Roger asked me at last.

“I’m fine,” I said. “Really. It’s just that, well, sometimes I start thinking about the future, and what’s going to happen when I’m finished with King’s College. That’s all.”

“I think about that a lot too,” Roger admitted in a somber tone.

“You do?” I asked.

“Of course,” Roger replied. “The thought of you being back in California and me being here…”

Roger gazed down at the rolling waves below and shook his head.

“Trust me, I know. 5,000 miles makes for a very long distance relationship.”

“Is it that far?” Roger asked.

I nodded solemnly in response.

“Well, what are your plans when you’ve finished with King’s College?” Roger asked, turning to face me. “I mean, are you going to stay enrolled in university, or are you going to get a job?”

“I’ve got to go back home and finish up the rest of my masters program at Stanford, and then I’m going to be done with school,” I answered. “I’m honestly not sure what kind of job I’m going to get yet. It would be nice to work as a teacher, or even as a curator in a museum.”

“We’ve got loads of museums over here, you know. Have you thought about trying to get a job in England when you’re finished with school?”

“I’ve thought of little else, believe me, and I certainly plan to try,” I said. “Although I don’t know how you Brits would feel about a Yank coming over to your country and working in one of your sacred museums!”

“You may have a point there,” Roger smiled.

“What about you guys though? What do you think is going to happen with Queen?”

“I wish I knew!” Roger laughed. “Freddie and I have been taking our demo tapes around London, trying to get a record deal, but it’s been hard. Some people seem interested, but never get back to us, and others just don’t care, that is, if you can get in to see someone at the record company at all.”

“I can tell you guys really want this,” I said thoughtfully.

“Well, we’ve worked too damn hard to give up now,” Roger said. “We’ve just got to find that one person who’s willing to give us a break. In fact, there’s supposed to be a recording studio executive at our show day after tomorrow, so we’ll see what happens.”

“Wow, really?” I asked. “Maybe this could be it for you then. Queen’s big break.”

“It just depends,” Roger shrugged. “Brian and I have been burned by recording contracts before when we were with Smile, so we’re going to be more careful this time before we sign anything.”

“Well, _I_ know you guys are going to make it,” I said, looking out into the icy cold waters of the Channel as a gust of wind ruffled my hair. “Then you’ll all be rich and driving around in Rolls Royces, and you won’t even think of little old Carrie Martin from Fresno, California anymore.”

“That’s never going to happen,” Roger said seriously, turning my face toward his. Then he smiled suddenly and said, “In fact, if we don’t make it, I may be moving out to California to live with you.”

“Oh, that would never work,” I teased. “You’re a pale little English boy, you’d melt during the first summer faster than an ice-cream cone!”

“Hey! I’m tougher than you think!” Roger laughed, reaching out to tickle my sides.

“Okay! Okay!” I cried, wriggling away from his grip. “You win! You’re a tough guy!”

He encircled my waist with his arms and pulled me toward him. I wrapped my arms loosely around his neck, expecting him to kiss me. Instead he gave me a sincere look and said, “I do love you, you know.”

“I know,” I replied.

“We’re going to make this work between us somehow,” he said. “Even if it takes time, we’re going to make it work.”

“I hope so,” I said, silently praying that he was right. 

“But, right now, there’s more pressing things to worry about,” Roger said, turning his watch toward a street lamp several yards away at the pier’s entrance, trying to see the time in the dark. “Because it looks to me like it’s after midnight, which means that it’s officially your birthday.”

“Is it?” I smiled.

“It is,” he confirmed. “Happy birthday sweetheart.”

We stood wrapped up in each other’s arms kissing, listening to the soothing sound of the waves as they washed up onto the shore. The wind picked up, blowing our hair around our faces, enticing the two of us to cuddle closer together for warmth. It felt like we were living out a scene from a romantic movie, and the craziness and chaos of the day was nothing more than a distant memory.

“Do you know, I can’t get _Bell Bottomed Blues_ out of my head?” Roger smiled, leaning his forehead against mine. “I think that may have to be our song now. What do you think?”

“Well, I know that every time I hear it from this point on, I’m going to think of Brighton, and slow dancing in a tiny hotel room, and about how much I love you,” I said. “So I would have to say that it’s definitely our song now.”

Roger held me tighter and kissed the tip of my nose. “What do you reckon the other two are up to?” he asked.

“I don’t know, but it is getting cold out here,” I replied. “So I guess we should probably get back.”

We walked hand in hand back to the hotel chatting about the Forest Hill Hospital gig in two days time, the possibility of the rumored record executive being there, and what Roger would spend his money on first if the band did sign a contract and became fabulously wealthy. Not surprisingly, he told me that the first thing he would buy would be a fast new sports car, possibly a Porsche or a Ferrari, then, as an afterthought, he decided that a big fancy house that we could both live in together would be next on the agenda. The thought of living the life of Riley after having to share the expenses of a short trip to Brighton with two friends seemed so far-fetched and ridiculous, that we laughed most of the way back to the hotel.

When we got up to our room, we found that most of the lights had already been turned off and that the room was almost completely dark. The only light that had been left on for us was the bathroom light, which seeped feebly out of the gap in the bathroom door. It took a minute, but our eyes eventually adjusted to the darkness, and we could see that Freddie was passed out on the spare bed wearing nothing but his undies, blankets strewn everywhere, the empty bottles of wine sitting on a nearby nightstand. Brian, meanwhile, was looking very cramped on the window seat, his long body folded up underneath a thin blanket as he lay on his side breathing heavily through his mouth.

“I take it Brian lost the coin toss,” Roger said casually, glancing across the room at his friends’ sleeping forms.

Brian looked so uncomfortable that I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. When I thought about the fact that there had really been very little to entice him to come along on the trip in the first place, other than helping out Roger and maybe the small enjoyment of spending a day away from London, I realized what a kind and selfless person he truly was. He could have very easily told Roger that if he couldn’t afford to take me to Brighton then he was just out of luck, but he didn’t. He knew how much this meant to Roger, and being the loyal friend that he was, he decided to help him out. Now he was being forced to sleep on a window seat that was far to small for his 6’2” frame. It just didn’t seem fair somehow.

I turned away from Brian and looked at Freddie instead, who was lying on his stomach snoring slightly.

“Freddie seems comfortable,” I said, trying not to dwell on the fact that he was wearing nothing but a pair of underwear.

“God, nobody should have to look at that,” Roger joked, reaching for the edge of one of Freddie’s blankets and tossing it casually over the top of his friend.

“It could be worse, I suppose,” I grinned. “He could be naked.”

“That’s true,” Roger laughed.

We walked further into the room, groping around in the darkness, and Roger quietly pulled his wallet, cigarettes and hotel key out of his pockets and set everything on top of the dresser. Between the wine and the overall craziness of the day, I had to admit that my eyes were starting to feel a little heavy. After all, it wasn’t all that often that I found myself wandering through an English palace, braving carnival rides and being chased by a band of thugs all in one day.

“That bed of ours is looking pretty good,” I said with a yawn and a stretch before pulling my sweatshirt up over my head.

“Yeah, it is,” Roger said, waggling his eyebrows at me.

“You can’t be serious,” I scoffed. “Brian and Freddie are right here.”

“As long as we’re quiet,” Roger shrugged. “Besides, as much as they drank, they’re not going to be waking up for a while.”

“You’re crazy,” I teased, sitting down on the end of our bed to take my shoes off.

“Crazy about you,” Roger replied, lunging for me, knocking me back onto the bed with a playful tackle. I collapsed onto my back with an audible “oomph!”, Roger landing on top of me.

I started giggling loudly, and I could hear Freddie start to stir.

“Sshhh!” Roger admonished, putting his hand over my mouth. I stuck my tongue out until it slithered between his fingers, hoping that I would get a reaction out of him.

“Ew!” Roger laughed, jerking his hand away. “That’s disgusting! You don’t know where my hand’s been!”

“Roger, are you trying to tell me that you have hygiene issues?” I asked innocently. “Because, you know, a little soap and water will fix that problem right up.”

Roger screwed up his face, giving me a playfully menacing look. “I think you know very well that the only thing dirty about me is my mind,” he said. 

He lifted up my t-shirt, sucked in a large mouthful of air, and blew a raspberry onto my stomach, making a loud farting noise that echoed around the room.

“Okay! Okay! You have impeccable hygiene!” I laughed.

“God, can you two please shut up!” Brian suddenly grumbled from the window seat. He flopped over onto his back, punching irritably at the pillow under his head before falling back asleep.

Roger and I looked at each other and couldn’t help but stifle a laugh.

“I hope you know that I never got to take my shoes off because you tackled me,” I whispered teasingly to Roger.

“I can fix that,” he whispered back. He reached down and pulled both of my sneakers off, tossing them casually onto the floor. “Better?”

“You forgot my socks,” I smirked.

“You can deal with your socks yourself,” Roger replied after a moment of contemplation.

“It’s not like they’re crawling with germs, you know!” I railed, reaching down to peel the offensive garments off of my feet.

“You’ve been wearing them all day, how do I know what condition they’re in?” Roger teased, pinching his nose as if the smell of my socks might overwhelm him.

“Okay, you’ve had it…” I said, pushing Roger onto his back and flopping on top of him. I pulled his sweatshirt and tank top up, exposing his stomach, and sank my teeth into the fleshy skin near his bellybutton.

“Ow!” he yelped, attempting to grab my head and pull me off of him. “What are you, a vampire??”

“I barely even made a mark you big sissy!” I laughed.

“I’ll show you who’s a sissy,” Roger mumbled, grabbing me around the waist and tossing me onto my back. He straddled my legs, getting up onto his knees to rip both of his shirts off over his head. When he’d finished, he reached down to grab the bottom of my shirt and pull it over my head as well. Since I was lying down, I put up a bit of a struggle just to give him a hard time, but I should have known that it wouldn’t matter. Roger, ever the pro at removing women’s clothing, had it off of me in a matter of seconds. He then reached underneath me with one hand and unhooked my bra in record time. He made short order of the rest of our clothes, tossing them haphazardly around the room.

Once the clothes were out of his way, he yanked the covers up over the top of our bodies and pinned my hands over my head, jerking my legs apart with his knees. “Now, what was it you called me again?” he asked, his lips poised just above mine.

“A sissy,” I smirked.

“Does this seem like a sissy to you?” he asked in a gruff voice. He positioned his hips between my thighs, and pushed all the way inside me with one swift movement, making me gasp for breath.

“Okay, definitely not a sissy,” I panted.

“I didn’t think so,” Roger whispered roughly, thrusting harder, until I arched my back, moaning with pleasure. Even though I knew that Freddie and Brian were just feet away from us, I was finding it almost impossible to stay quiet.

“Shh,” Roger smiled.

“I can’t help it,” I sighed. “If you weren’t so damn sexy…”

“You’re going to wake up Freddie and Brian,” Roger hissed.

“Oh don’t worry about me, I’m already awake,” Brian complained.

Roger froze, and the two of us just stared at each other for a moment, unsure of what to say or do. Roger finally rolled over to my side, as we looked across the darkened room to find Brian’s eyes glinting dangerously at us.

“Sorry, Brian,” I said at last, feeling a deep blush spread across my cheeks. It was the second time in one day that my intimacy with Roger had been witnessed by others – no, not just others, but Brian in particular – and I didn’t think that I could handle any further humiliation.

“Um, yeah, sorry Bri…” Roger echoed.

“Just go to sleep for fuck’s sake!” Brian yelled. “You can screw each other’s brains out all you want when we get back to London!”

“Fine,” Roger grumbled, flopping irritably onto his back.

Brian punched his pillow a couple more times and rolled back over onto his side again.

“Well, I guess we can just cuddle tonight,” I whispered in Roger’s ear, as I wrapped my arms around him and snuggled against his chest.

“Mm, cuddling. Sounds…great,” Roger replied sarcastically.

I couldn’t help but giggle over his irritation, as I drifted off to sleep in his arms.


	19. Chapter 19

I woke up the next morning still feeling a little woozy from all the wine that I’d consumed the night before. I squinted at the soft light streaming in through the sheer curtains on the window, and realized that I had a dull ache forming in the back of my head and that my mouth was thoroughly parched. I stretched and yawned, rubbing at the sleep in my eyes, and became conscious of the fact that I was very much alone in my little hotel bed. As I looked around the rest of the room, I discovered that it wasn’t just my bed that was empty. Freddie’s was as well, and the window seat had nothing but a rumpled pillow and blanket as a reminder that someone had been sleeping there. I seemed to be all by myself, which was probably a good thing, I supposed, since I was still completely naked after Roger had removed all of my clothes the night before.

I looked over at the small alarm clock on the nightstand and saw that it was just after ten o’clock. I wondered where everyone had gone to and why no one had bothered to wake me up to say that they were leaving.

Slowly, my senses started to return to me, and it occurred to me that I could hear the soft sound of running water coming from the bathroom. Ah, the shower was on, so Roger was there and I wasn’t alone after all. I smiled a little at the thought of him being wet and naked, and I immediately formed a plan. If we were all by ourselves in the hotel room, then I was going to take advantage of it. I climbed out of bed, and without getting dressed, sauntered off in the direction of the bathroom.

I heard the slight squeak of the shower knobs turning off just as I was approaching the bathroom door. I slowly pushed the door inward fully prepared to say good morning to Roger and waltz into the bathroom to wrap my arms around him. Instead, standing before me completely naked was Brian, dripping wet and reaching for a towel. My mouth fell open in shock and my eyes nearly popped out of my head, as I stood motionless, like a deer caught in headlights. I was definitely awake now!

“Oh my God!” I cried, tearing my eyes away from Brian’s water-drenched, naked body. “I thought you were Roger!”

“I thought you were still asleep!” Brian exclaimed, covering himself quickly with his towel.

“I was… I, um…” I spluttered, too much in a state of shock to even get the right words out of my mouth. I looked down at myself and wanted nothing more than to find a gigantic hole to crawl into and hide, as I realized with dawning horror that I was still very much naked, and not moving away from the bathroom door nearly fast enough.

“Oh God…” I mumbled, feeling every inch of skin on my face, neck and chest turning a bright shade of red. “I’m just going to go get dressed…”

I rushed away to my suitcase, trying to find something that I could put on quickly, thoughts of Brian’s naked body flashing before my eyes.

“Oh my God…Oh my God…” I whispered to myself, fumbling with a pair of baby blue bikini underpants. I lost my balance trying to put them on, and finally fell onto the bed trying to pull them the rest of the way up. I immediately hopped back up and rifled through my suitcase looking for my bra, when I vaguely remembered that Roger had tossed it somewhere the night before.

“Shit! Where did it go?” I muttered to myself, scanning the room.

“My, uh, my clothes are out there, so…” Brian said peeking his head around the bathroom door.

“Just a second!” I said. “I’m just looking for my bra.”

“I seem to recall seeing it on the floor by Freddie’s bed,” Brian said with a little lilt to his voice. I looked up briefly to find that he was watching me from the doorway of the bathroom, a grin spreading across his countenance, as his bright hazel eyes lit up with amusement. My first instinct was to crawl under the bed and hide, but really, what was the point? He’d already seen everything that there was to see, especially after he and Freddie had walked in on Roger and me in a compromising position the day before, so I decided that my energies were better spent searching for my clothing instead.

I looked by Freddie’s bed, and sure enough, there was my bra. I snatched it up off the floor and put it on as quickly as I could. I went back to my suitcase and grabbed out the last of my clean clothes – a pair of bell-bottomed jeans and the sex goddess t-shirt that Freddie had given me – and walked back toward the bathroom with my clothes clasped to my chest, hoping that Brian was at least somewhat covered up.

“I guess that, um, you and I can just trade places…” I said to Brian, who was still watching my every move from the bathroom doorway. He looked funny, I thought to myself, with his normally fluffy hair all wet and plastered against his head. Sort of like a cat after having a bath, I decided. Thankfully, he had his towel wrapped around his waist, but I did notice, as my eyes were drawn inexplicably to his chest, that he had these adorable little man boobs. There was no other word for them, really. I couldn’t really call them pectorals, since Brian was hardly muscular, so man boobs they were, and each boasted the cutest little brown nipple I’d ever seen.

Wait, what?? I asked myself. Adorable man boobs? Cute nipples? _Really?_ Had I completely lost my mind??

“Works for me,” Brian answered, our arms gently brushing each other’s as we passed one another through the bathroom door. The brief sensation of his damp skin touching mine sent a shiver through my body.

I was just about to close the bathroom door, when Brian paused, turning to look back at me.

“By the way,” he said with a crooked smile, “nice tits. I’ve been meaning to tell you that since the fashion show at Kensington Market.”

I gasped as my jaw practically dropped to the floor in shock. I glared at him indignantly as I slammed the bathroom door, listening as he laughed quietly out in the room beyond. Flashbacks of my see-through chemise and the way that Brian kept looking at me backstage at the fashion show flooded my thoughts, and a whole new wave of embarrassment washed over me as I leaned my back against the bathroom door. I was genuinely shocked by Brian’s suddenly brazen attitude. He was normally so quiet and gentlemanlike! Well, okay, so he had taken the initiative at Freddie’s and kissed me on his staircase, but he’d been drinking, and was more than apologetic after it had happened. This cocky, flirtatious, emboldened Brian was someone new to me.

I quickly got dressed, sliding into my jeans and throwing my shirt up over my head. I looked in the mirror and realized what a mess I was. I reached up to wipe away the eye make-up that had smudged under my eyes during the night, and picked up my hairbrush to straighten out my hair. I still didn’t look great, but I looked slightly better than I did when I first woke up at least.

I popped my head out of the bathroom door and yelled out to Brian, “Is it safe to come out now?”

“Fairly safe,” he answered.

I wasn’t quite sure what that meant exactly, but I thought I’d take my chances. When I walked back out into the room I found Brian standing near Freddie’s bed half dressed with pants on but no shirt, drying his hair with his towel.

“You need to start eating more, you know that? I can count every rib on your body,” I said in a snarky tone, trying desperately to find something to say that would mask my true feelings about Brian’s body and the effect that it was having on me as I headed back to my suitcase to look for a clean pair of socks.

“Stop checking me out then,” Brian grinned arrogantly.

I paused in my search for socks to stare across the room at him. “Um, it’s kind of hard not to notice when you’re standing there without a shirt on. Clearly you want me to check you out.”

“At least I wasn’t the one having sex last night with two other people in the room,” Brian bit back.

I just glared back at him through narrowed eyes. Okay, so maybe he had a point. I blamed Roger though. That boyfriend of mine was definitely a bad influence on me I decided. Before I’d started dating him, I would have never even seriously kissed someone in front of other people, let alone try and have sex while other people were just a stone’s throw away!

“I thought you were asleep at the time,” I argued feebly. “Where are Roger and Freddie anyway?”

“They left about an hour ago while you were still asleep,” Brian answered, tossing a light blue t-shirt over his head. It was a nice change from the usual black or white that he generally wore, I thought to myself. Blue seemed to compliment his dark hair and hazel eyes.

Oh Lord! There I went again, thinking inappropriate thoughts! _Just stop it_! I screamed at myself mentally.

“Where did they go?” I asked, focusing my attention on finding the pair of pink socks I’d been looking for.

“I don’t know. They just left and said they’d be back in a bit.”

“Great,” I mumbled, flopping myself down on my bed, socks in hand. I was really wishing that Roger hadn’t left. Being alone with Brian was stirring up feelings that I didn’t want to think about.

Then a sudden thought occurred to me as I thought back to the night before when we’d all been laughing and drinking and having a good time. I asked Brian, “Where are the photos I was showing you guys last night?”

“Oh, I left them on the dresser,” Brian replied.

I left the socks on my bed and got up to find my precious photos. Since that small packet of pictures contained the only photographic evidence of Roger and me being together, I wanted to make sure that everything was still intact.

I found the pictures, and sat back down on the edge of my bed to go through them all and reorganize them if necessary.

As it turned out, it was absolutely necessary. The pictures were a mess, and I immediately set about putting them all back in order, looking at the negatives when needed in order to remember exactly what sequence they went in.

“Ah, someone who’s as meticulous as I am,” Brian smiled, walking over to sit next to me on the bed. My traitorous heart beat a little faster over his close proximity. He was sitting just a mere six or seven inches from me, if that. “Sorry if Freddie and I got them out of order.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” I answered, trying not to breathe in his clean, freshly bathed scent and failing miserably. He always smelled so good, I thought to myself, like soap and the almond scented shampoo that he always used. As I glanced at Brian out of the corner of my eye, I realized that I was never going to be able to look at him again without thinking of him naked. I knew way too much about him now. I knew that he was tall and lean, with a gorgeous chest and stomach, and impossibly long legs that seemed to stretch all the way up to his neck. And there were other assets that I had noticed as well… large assets. I quickly tossed that thought out of my head. I was going to lose my mind if I kept thinking about such things.

“Are photos the only thing you keep organized?” he asked me, looking over my shoulder at the pictures as I rifled through them.

“Um, no,” I answered, trying my best to concentrate on the task at hand. “I’m pretty obsessive about my books and records too.”

I paused as a thought occurred to me.

“Speaking of my records, Freddie was going through them before we left yesterday, wasn’t he?” I asked. “I bet I’m going to have to reorganize the whole stack when I get home.”

I shook my head irritably and went back to my pictures.

“So how do you organize your stuff?” Brian asked with a smile.

“Well, photos, as you see, have to go in the order in which they were taken. My books have to be categorized and sorted according to size. My records are organized by artist, favorites being first, and then the rest are just alphabetized.”

“Makes sense,” Brian nodded in agreement.

“I take it you’re a little obsessive-compulsive about organizing your things too?” I asked, turning to smile at him.

“The things that I love I’m very obsessive-compulsive about, as you say,” Brian laughed. “My records, books, comic books, photos, all of my various collections, things like that. The funny thing is that I’m also a bit of a slob though. I tend to make piles of things, especially things that I don’t feel like taking the time to deal with right away, yet I always seem to know where everything is somehow.”

“I’m exactly the same way,” I said, looking up at Brian with amazement. His description of himself sounded uncannily like me and my own slovenly ways.

“It seems that we have a lot in common,” Brian said, his hazel eyes piercing my soul with that same intensity that they had the night that he’d kissed me on Freddie’s staircase. “By the way,” he added softly, “I don’t think I’ve wished you a happy birthday yet, have I?”

I shook my head no, and found my gaze drifting down to Brian’s soft lips, thinking that if he were to kiss me again, that this time I might not want him to stop…

Just at that moment, Roger and Freddie came waltzing through the door laughing and chatting, instantly snapping me out of my very dangerous train of thought.

“There’s the birthday girl!” Freddie announced.

Brian casually got up and quietly moved across the room to the other bed and sat down.

“Hey! You’re up!” Roger smiled, walking across the room to our bed, his eyes briefly straying toward Brian and the slightly guilty look on his face.

“Yep,” I said quickly. “I was just reorganizing my pictures.”

“Well, Freddie and I got something for you,” Roger said proudly, snatching a white paper bag out of Freddie’s hands. “For your birthday breakfast, we found a shop that sells American style doughnuts!”

Roger thrust the bag at me, and Freddie added, “We got coffee for everyone too!” as he held up a cardboard drink holder filled with steaming foam cups.

“Oh, wow!” I exclaimed. “Thanks guys!”

“And…” Roger said dramatically. “This is just from me.”

He handed me a small, flat gift with a bow on top that he had clearly gift wrapped himself in a bright polka dot paper.

“Roger, you shouldn’t have,” I said earnestly. “You already got me the bracelet.”

“It’s not much, really,” Roger smiled, waving my comments aside. “Open it.”

I tugged at the paper, hating to tear apart all the hard work he’d put into wrapping it, and found the 45 of _Bell Bottomed Blues_ staring up at me. I felt tears stinging the back of my eyes over his thoughtfulness. Or was it more because of the guilt that I felt over the feelings that I’d been having for Brian just moments before Roger had walked in?

“Roger, it’s perfect!” I cried, standing up to give him a hug. “You couldn’t have gotten me anything better!”

“I hope you don’t have it already,” Roger said with a worried expression.

“No, I don’t,” I said gazing down at the record lovingly.

“I’ll have you know this boy is dedicated,” Freddie said, setting the coffee down on the nightstand. “We had to go to two different record shops in order to find that for you.”

“It’s no big deal,” Roger said with a shrug.

“It is a big deal,” I said reaching up to give him a kiss. “This is the nicest, most meaningful thing you could have gotten me.”

“Let’s try the doughnuts and see if they’re any good,” Roger said, blushing slightly.

“Yes, I’ll have to be the judge of whether they’re truly American or not,” I smiled, sitting back down on the bed and opening the bag.

I pulled one of the doughnuts out and examined it. It was much smaller than American doughnuts (big surprise!) and was covered in plain white granulated sugar. I took a bite and tried not to make a face. “Mmm,” I said, painting on a false smile.

Freddie instantly started laughing. “Is it that bad?” he asked.

“Well, like most British pastries that I’ve tried, it definitely needs more sugar,” I replied. “It’s certainly not American, let’s put it that way. But it’s not bad.”

I passed the bag around to everyone, and it seemed that I was the only one who had a problem with the lack of sugar. Oh, these poor British people, I thought to myself, they just don’t know what they’re missing.

“So what’s the plan for today guys?” I asked, taking a swig of coffee.

“Well, unfortunately, we need to leave before too long since we’ve got a gig tomorrow,” Roger said. “But I thought maybe we could grab a quick lunch for your birthday before we head back home. What do you say fellas? Sound all right?”

Freddie and Brian both agreed, and as soon as all of the doughnuts and coffee were polished off, we set about packing up our things and loading our suitcases into the car before checking out of the hotel. We stopped by the restaurant that was next door to the hotel, since it was nearby, and ordered some sandwiches and fries. Roger had apparently talked to the manager of the place when we arrived, unbeknownst to me, and had them bring me a small slice of cake with a candle once we were finished with our meal. Roger, Freddie, Brian, and half of the people in the restaurant then proceeded to sing _Happy Birthday_ to me, making me wish that I could crawl under the table and hide rather than being the center of attention. It was incredibly sweet and thoughtful on Roger’s part, though, and provided the perfect ending to what had been a roller coaster of a trip. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that my 22nd birthday would be something that I would most definitely remember for as long as I lived.


	20. Chapter 20

The one and a half hour drive home was relatively uneventful, with Roger, Freddie and Brian talking about their show the following day almost the entire time. After a while their voices sort of lulled me into a deep sleep, my head resting on Roger’s shoulder, as the pandemonium that had been Brighton finally caught up with me. 

I woke up as we came into London with Freddie telling Roger and Brian all about some new “old” clothing that a friend of his had brought over to his flat just a few days before. He said that there were some fantastic items that he thought would look good for their gig, and therefore wanted everyone to meet up at his place the following morning. I could tell by the looks on Roger and Brian’s faces that Freddie’s idea of fantastic items and their idea of fantastic items might not be one in the same.

Nevertheless, everyone agreed to meet at Freddie’s the following morning as requested, as if anyone had a choice in the matter once Freddie came up with one of his hair-brained schemes.

“What are you guys going to do after the show?” I asked, stretching and yawning.

“Did Sleeping Beauty finally wake up?” Freddie gasped dramatically, turning in his seat to face me.

“As much as you’ve been talking, how could I possibly sleep?” I grumbled. 

My eyes strayed to the rear view mirror where I noticed a pair of slightly bemused hazel eyes looking back at me from the driver’s seat. I blushed a little, still thinking about the things I had seen when Brian was getting out of the shower that very morning, and turned my gaze toward the window and the passing scenery instead.

“I guess we should have a party or a get together at my place or something,” Freddie shrugged, looking out at the road ahead.

“No more parties at your place,” I argued. “Things always get out of hand.”

“Then why don’t you throw a party for us?” Freddie grinned, turning to look at me once again.

“Who exactly would ‘us’ entail?” I asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“Well, me of course…” Freddie said, counting on his fingers.

“Me,” Brian chimed in raising his hand.

“I suppose you could invite Roger if you like,” Freddie said teasingly, rolling his eyes. “Then of course there’s Mary and John and Veronica…”

“You could invite your friend Annie, since you haven’t seen much of her lately,” Roger provided.

“I think my friend Dave is going to be at the show,” Brian added. “So he might like to come.”

I quickly started counting down all the names on my fingers and said, “Okay, that’s eight people…”

“And whoever else shows up of course,” Roger smiled.

“You guys realize that I don’t have a ton of space in my flat, right?” I asked.

“Are you mad? You’re place is much roomier than most of ours!” Freddie declared.

“I guess it is…” I said skeptically. “So, am I supposed to provide food and drinks for everyone?”

“If you do that, no one will ever leave!” Roger laughed.

“Well, I’d have to do something,” I said. “I mean, I can’t just invite people over and then not offer them anything.”

“Oh, I can see Carrie’s place is going to be our new party ground,” Freddie grinned.

“I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into,” Brian warned, his eyes finding mine in the rear view mirror again.

I was hoping that I did too.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

The next day dawned bright and early, mainly because the incessant ringing of my phone made me have to get out of bed before I wanted to. I thought at first that perhaps it was my mom calling, but then it vaguely occurred to me that it was the middle of the night back home, which meant that that wasn’t likely. I had no idea who would be calling so early, but I decided that I might have to strangle whoever it was for waking me from a lovely dream where Roger and I were taking the new sports car he’d gotten for a test drive. All the talk in Brighton about record contracts and instant fame and fortune must have still been stuck in my head.

I stumbled into the living room wearing a t-shirt and a pair of panties and picked up the receiver.

“Hello?” I mumbled.

“Hello darling!” Freddie trilled on the other end. I thought for a minute that my lovely dream had turned into a nightmare. “Where’s Roger?”

“Um, still asleep,” I answered. “What time is it?”

“Ten o’clock dear,” Freddie said impatiently. “Remember I told both of you yesterday that I wanted everyone to meet at my place about our stage costumes?”

“You want Roger to come over now? Isn’t it a bit early?” I asked, rubbing my eyes.

“The sun has been up for four hours already, darling. Brian is already here, and John is on his way, so go wake that boyfriend of yours up and tell him to get his arse over here. We’ve got a big show today,” Freddie instructed. Then, as an afterthought, he said, “Oh, and you’re welcome to come too of course.”

“Oh goody, can’t wait,” I said caustically. “Let me go see if I can wake Roger up, and we’ll be over in a bit.”

I hung up with Freddie and slunk back to the bedroom, flopping onto the bed. I figured I’d better wake Roger up before I fell back asleep myself.

“Rog,” I said nudging him. He continued to sleep. 

“Rog,” I said again. Still no response.

I pulled the covers off of him, figuring that the chilly morning air inside my flat would wake him up, but it didn’t. He was naked as usual, and I noticed that he was also very hard. A naughty thought popped into my head, and my mouth curled into an impish grin as I decided on a way to wake him up.

I took my clothes off and tossed them on the end of the bed. I scooted down the bed a little way, and wrapped my lips around his cock, sucking on the tip before taking the whole thing into my mouth. He tasted a little salty and sweaty, but I didn’t mind. I had only ever given a guy head once before when I was 16, so I was more than a little rusty, but the sensations came back to me in a flash.

Roger started to stir, and then his eyes flew open when he realized that he wasn’t dreaming.

“Oh fuck, what are you doing?” he breathed, tangling his fingers in my hair.

“Trying to wake you up,” I smiled.

“I’m awake now,” he replied. “You can, um, you can keep doing that if you want though…”

I did as he asked and kept sucking and licking, taking him all the way into my mouth over and over. Watching him gasp and squirm with pleasure was well worth it.

“Come here, get on top of me,” he said, reaching for my legs so that we could get into a 69 position. I turned around, swinging my leg over the top of him, and gasped as his tongue delved into the wetness between my thighs.

I took his cock back into my mouth, relishing the sensation of the two of us pleasuring each other. His tongue always seemed to work magic, finding the spots that made me whimper and cry, until my entire body shook with desire, and I knew that the sounds of him gasping and moaning beneath me meant that I must have been doing something right.

He slipped one finger inside me, then two, making me cry out with delight.

“Oh God!” I breathed, having a hard time keeping his cock in my mouth while I was panting and gasping for air. I wrapped my hand around him, stroking him up and down until he let out a low moan and came all over my tits.

“Oh fuck yeah,” he panted.

I reached for my shirt to wipe myself down, and then laid back down beside him, snuggling into his arms.

“You can wake me up like that any time you want,” he sighed, pulling me in for a long, deep kiss.

“Well, I couldn’t seem to wake you up any other way this morning,” I said. “Freddie called and is chomping at the bit for you to get over to his place.”

“Oh shit! What time is it?” Roger asked in a panicked voice.

“A little after ten,” I replied.

“Oh, well it’s not that late then,” he said with relief. “I guess we’d better get up and at ‘em though.”

We went in and took a shower together, fought over space at the sink while we brushed our teeth, and then got dressed. Roger donned a black Led Zeppelin t-shirt, his usual scruffy bell-bottoms and sneakers, and similarly, I wore my Beatles Let It Be t-shirt, bell-bottomed jeans and sneakers. We dried our hair, I put on a bit of make-up, and we were ready to face the day.

We stopped by the coffee shop downstairs for a quick cup of coffee and a muffin to go, and then were off to Freddie’s place.

Roger and I stood at Freddie’s front door, cups of coffee in hand, waiting for somebody to let us in, and were eventually greeted by Freddie throwing the door open wide and exclaiming, “It’s about bloody time! What took you so long?”

“I was asleep when you called,” Roger grumbled. “I had get up and shower and shave and stuff. What’d you expect?”

Freddie ushered us in, shaking his head irritably. He looked at me as I walked past him, and only half jokingly said, “I blame you, you know.”

“Me?” I protested. “What did I do?”

“You’re wearing the poor boy out darling!” Freddie exclaimed, closing his front door with a decided click.

Brian and John wandered out of Freddie’s kitchen, each holding a cup of tea as they quietly chitchatted, halting their conversation once they reached the living room so that they could hear what was being said between Freddie, Roger and me.

“I mean, look at him! He looks tired, and we’ve got a very important show tonight!” Freddie continued, motioning toward Roger.

Roger opened his mouth to defend himself, but I held up a quelling hand, wanting to put my two cents worth in first.

“I’ll have you know that we both got a full night’s sleep last night, and if either of us look tired, it’s probably because we just came back from Brighton yesterday, where we had been drinking pretty heavily the night before,” I railed, hands sitting decidedly on my hips. “And as I recall, all those bottles of wine were your idea!”

“Mm-hmm,” Freddie muttered, challenging me with an arched eyebrow. “Well I’m glad to hear that he’s gotten at least _one_ night of sleep lately. You two are like fucking rabbits. I heard all about how you kept poor Brian awake in Brighton you know.”

“What happened in Brighton?” John whispered to Brian.

“Don’t ask,” Brian mumbled.

“Look, enough about our sex life, thank you very much!” Roger interjected. “As you see, I’m here, I’m not tired, and Carrie’s not to blame for any wrongdoing. The show is going to go fine tonight, so stop throwing a fucking moody. Now, are we going to see these new clothes of yours or have I been summoned here purely to be insulted?”

“Yes, fine, fine!” Freddie said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Well, now that I do have _all_ of you here,” he said looking pointedly at Roger, “I’ve got some fabulous new things to show you.”

“What kinds of things?” Roger asked. “Who did you say gave them to you again?”

“So glad that you were listening so attentively in the car yesterday,” Freddie said to Roger in an acidic tone. “Alan, darling, I told you that Alan brought the things by the other day.” 

I had heard of Alan through Roger, and knew that he was someone who worked at Kensington Market and had a knack for finding unusual antique clothing.

Freddie waved Roger toward his bedroom and John followed along in their wake, leaving Brian and me alone in Freddie’s living room.

We gave each other an awkward grin, and then Brian motioned toward Freddie’s couch and said, “We may as well sit down if you want. I’ve pretty much already seen the fabulous clothing that Freddie’s referring to.”

It was obvious from his tone that he was less than impressed with Freddie’s new finds.

I sat down first at one end of the couch, then Brian followed suit sitting at the opposite end, turning slightly to face me. I tried not to feel uncomfortable around him, but it was difficult. I could still see his tall, thin, naked body perfectly in my mind every time that I looked at him, and I knew without a doubt that he was having similar thoughts every time that he looked at me.

“So what did you and Roger do when you got home yesterday?” Brian asked me at last, trying to find some kind of small talk to break the long awkward silence that stretched between us.

“Not much,” I replied, taking a sip of my tepid coffee. “Roger took a nap, and I ran to the store to get some drinks and snacks for tonight.”

“Everyone’s still going to your place after the show then?” Brian asked, taking a sip of tea from the delicate fine China cup that Freddie had provided him.

“They’d better, or Roger and I will have a lot of cookies and chips and dip and wine and beer to eat and drink,” I laughed.

“You bought that much stuff?” Brian asked, looking thoroughly shocked as he set his cup back down on his saucer with a light clatter.

“Well, the cookies I made, but I had to do something,” I shrugged. “I wouldn’t be much of a hostess without offering my guests something to eat and drink.”

“Roger was right, you know,” Brian grinned. “If everyone figures out that you’re going to feed them and give them free alcohol like this every time they come over, you’re never going to get them to leave.”

“Well, at least with everyone at my place, I figure I’ll be able to have more of a say over the night’s activities,” I said decisively.

“Hmm, I don’t know,” Brian replied thoughtfully. “Look what happened the last time we were all here at Freddie’s. Freddie didn’t seem to have a lot of control over your actions that night.”

“Thanks for reminding me,” I said caustically. “I think as long as Freddie leaves his Twister game at home then everything will be all right.”

Brian laughed and said, “Well, hopefully no one will flirt with Roger and force you to use that left hook of yours again.”

I knew he was teasing me, and I couldn’t help but smile.

“All right Brian,” Freddie announced with relish, waltzing into the room with Roger and John in tow. “I was just showing these to Roger and John, and we all agree you should wear them tonight.”

Freddie held up a black long-sleeved shirt with some sort of a fake fur collar, and a piece of thin paisley fabric that looked like it had seen better days.

“What am I supposed to do with that rag?” Brian asked.

“What, this?” Freddie asked, nodding toward the fabric and sounding highly offended. “This is silk darling, it’s gorgeous! You could wear it as a sash.”

“It’s full of moth holes,” Brian protested.

“It’s an antique,” Freddie argued.

“I’m not wearing it,” Brian said flatly. “The shirt looks okay, but I’m not wearing that other thing.”

“Ugh!” Freddie exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. “Some people just don’t know quality when they see it, I swear!”

“I’ll use it,” Roger shrugged. “People don’t see me as much behind the drums, and I’ll need something to go around my waist to help hide my fat.”

“Your what?” I asked, shaking my head in confusion.

“My fat,” Roger repeated, pinching his sides just above his waistband. “Right here when I sit down.”

“Oh my God!” Brian and I said in unison, rolling our eyes.

“If you’re fat, then I must be morbidly obese,” I sneered.

“I’m going to be wearing low cut satin trousers and a short sequined waistcoat tonight. I need something to hide my belly,” Roger explained.

“Yes, because obviously you’re so concerned with people seeing your belly that you decided to wear low cut satin pants and a short sequined waistcoat,” I said sarcastically.

“It’s your fault you know,” Roger said with a crooked grin, pointing at me.

“Good God, you’re starting to sound like Freddie! What have I done now?” I asked, throwing my hands in the air.

“You’ve been feeding me too much,” Roger chuckled, rubbing a hand across his stomach.

“Yeah, well, I’ve also been helping you work it back off, haven’t I?” I joked, arching an eyebrow at him.

“Ugh, Freddie’s right. You two are like fucking rabbits,” Brian grumbled, shaking his head first at Roger, and then at me.

I just stuck my tongue out at him playfully, and then turned my attention toward John. “So what is Freddie forcing you to wear tonight?” I asked.

“Me? Oh, some black leather trousers, a striped jumper with a black satin jacket, and a bow tie,” John answered with a grin.

“Sounds, interesting…” I drawled, wondering just how rock ‘n’ roll a striped sweater and bow tie were going to look. Then I turned to Freddie. “And pray tell, what are you planning on wearing tonight, _darling?_ ”

“Something fabulous, of course,” Freddie grinned. “I’ve got a black bejeweled velvet shirt that I’m wearing with black satin trousers. Oh! And that reminds me. I need all of you to help me pick out a belt.”

Freddie dashed back into his bedroom and brought out a selection of belts, including black ones, white ones, silver ones, sequined ones, and one that was black with silver studs.

“All right everyone, what do you think?” he asked, laying them out in front of us.

“Well, I’d have to see your outfit first,” I said.

“Oh, let me go put it on,” Freddie said impatiently.

A few minutes later he was back in the living room sporting ultra tight slightly flared black satin pants, an equally tight black long-sleeved shirt with faux diamonds scattered around the plunging neckline, and a pair of white stacked heel boots.

“Try one of the white ones,” I said. “It might match your boots.”

Freddie tried on the first white belt, and didn’t like it. Then he tried on another white belt, and didn’t like that either. We went through this same process over and over, with Freddie putting on belt after belt, going into his bedroom to pose in front of the mirror, and coming back out dismayed. The entire procedure took nearly half an hour by the time he finally settled on the black belt with silver studs. The rest of us were about ready to strangle him.

Freddie changed back into the outfit he’d had on before, and came out of his room a few minutes later trilling, “Well, I guess we’re all set for the show tonight!”

Then he looked at me.

“Except for you dear,” he said with a scowl. “You’re not going to wear that to the show, are you?”

“ _I’m_ not going to be on stage,” I protested.

“Yes, I know darling, but you’re the girlfriend of Queen’s soon to be famous drummer,” Freddie said to me as if I were slow. “You have to look the part.”

“But I’m comfortable in stuff like this,” I argued.

“You look like a 15-year-old boy!” Freddie exclaimed.

Did I? I thought you myself. I knew that I wasn’t the most fashionably dressed girl in England, but I’d never thought of myself looking like a boy. Then again, as I looked at what Roger had on, and then at what I had on, I realized that we were both dressed almost identically. I thought about the sorts of things that I usually saw Mary wearing at parties or at the guys’ concerts, and it was generally a far cry from jeans and t-shirts. She was usually wearing something fabulous and trendy, probably from Biba no doubt, and always looked very chic and feminine.

I hated to admit it, but maybe Freddie had a point. I supposed it couldn’t hurt to try and look a little more like a girl, considering that I was one.

“Don’t listen to Freddie,” Brian said sweetly, as he watched me examining my clothes with a somber expression. “You don’t look like a boy, believe me.”

“That’s right,” Roger chimed in, scowling at the sympathetic look that Brian was giving me. “I know you’ve got plenty of clothes at your flat, so don’t worry, we’ll find something in your closet for tonight.”

I wasn’t sure what made me feel worse, the fact that I didn’t know how a fashionable, feminine girl was supposed to dress, or the fact that these guys did. Regardless, Freddie was probably right. It was high time that I seriously started thinking about my appearance and making a few changes for the better, and like the old saying went, there was never a better time than the present to get started.


	21. Chapter 21

Roger and I went back to my place to grab some lunch and look for something more suitable for me to wear to the concert. I made some sandwiches for the two of us, which we ate in front of the TV on the couch just as we always did, then, once lunch was out of the way, I dragged Roger in to my closet, asking him to help me find suitable “rock ‘n’ roll drummer girlfriend” attire just as Freddie had requested.

“There’s always the halter top,” Roger smiled, waggling his eyebrows at me.

“No, I’ve already worn that too much,” I said, shaking my head. “Surely I must have something else that’s acceptable.”

“Let’s see…” Roger said rifling through my clothes. “I’ve never seen you wear one of these before.”

He pulled out one of the mini skirts that I’d gotten at Kensington Market. To be honest, I’d sort have forgotten that I even had them.

“Yeah, I guess I could wear one of those,” I shrugged, although I had a feeling that it would be a long night of me tugging at the damn thing, trying in vain to make it cover my legs more completely.

“I’ve never seen you wear this either,” Roger said, pulling out a beige sleeveless crocheted top with a low v-shaped neckline.

“I forgot that I even brought that with me from the States,” I said. “It would match the brown mini-skirt pretty well I guess. Oh, and my tall brown boots would probably go with it too.”

“See, you’re better at this than you thought!” Roger grinned.

He gave me a quick kiss on the end of my nose, then wandered out to the living room to watch TV while I got ready, and I had to admit when I looked in the mirror that I didn’t look half bad in the outfit he’d picked out. Now whether or not I was going to be comfortable in such a get-up was another matter completely. The skirt was incredibly short and the crocheted top was tight and practically see-through. My boots almost covered more of me than my clothes did for God’s sake! It was a far cry from the sorts of things that I was used to wearing that was for sure.

I kept my hair down and curled it a little on the sides to give it some flair, and put my make-up on a little heavier than usual with more eyeliner and mascara and a darker shade of lipstick than I normally wore. I scarcely recognized the girl looking back at me in the mirror. If I was being honest with myself, I actually thought that I looked a little trampy, but Roger didn’t seem to mind though. His jaw about hit the floor when I walked out into the living room.

“Well, do I look like the girlfriend of a hot rock ‘n’ roll drummer?” I asked, shifting my weight onto one foot, and holding my hands out to my sides.

“You look much hotter than any rock ‘n’ roll drummer I’ve ever seen,” Roger said with a crooked grin, looking me up and down. “You really should dress like that more often.”

Uncomfortable or not, I had to admit that I was enjoying the reaction that my “new look” was getting, and I made a mental note to take Freddie and Roger out shopping with me as soon as possible.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

It wasn’t long before Roger had all of his things packed up and ready for the show that night, and soon we were getting ready to head out the door. The Forrest Hill Hospital was on the outskirts of London, so we decided that we’d better give ourselves plenty of time to get there. Before we left, however, I gave Annie a quick call and asked her if she wanted to attend the concert, my treat. She told me she was thinking about going out with some friends later on that night, so I told her to bring them, and that there would be a party at my place after the show. As soon as she heard the word “party”, she readily agreed.

Roger and I were actually running early for once, by some miracle of God, and arrived just as the band’s roadie, John Harris, was starting to unload everything out of the van. I was surprised to see that Freddie, Brian and John hadn’t shown up yet, but it wasn’t long before they did. Freddie walked in first with Mary by his side, and a little way behind them were Brian, John and Veronica talking animatedly.

Roger, remembering what Freddie had said at the last show when we showed up late, shouted out, “Hey! Look what the cat dragged in!”

“Yes, yes. Very funny,” Freddie said dismissively. “We would have been here earlier, but Mary took forever to get home from her parents’ place.”

“Oh, so it’s all _Mary’s_ fault!” Roger teased, giving Freddie a dose of his own medicine. “Weren’t you blaming my girlfriend for something this morning?”

“So tell me, Rog,” Freddie grinned salaciously, remaining completely unfazed by Roger’s jibes. “Who’s that hot little number with you and what do you think Carrie’s going to say when she finds out you’re cheating on her?”

“Ha ha,” I sneered. “Just trying to dress more appropriately.”

“I like it,” Freddie said, walking over to give me the once over, as I leaned back against the front of the stage and watched Roger sort through his drum kit. “Still not sure about the color though. Brown is so drab.”

“Well, for now, it’s all I have. One of these days you and Roger are going to have to go shopping with me, I guess, and tell me what I should be wearing.”

“Oh gladly!” Freddie said with a flourish of his hand.

Mary, who was standing a few feet away from us listening in, didn’t seem overly thrilled about the direction our conversation was taking. Then again, after I’d gotten into a fight with one of her friends the last time I saw her, she probably wasn’t too happy with me regardless. It was hard not to notice the icy glare that she was sending my way.

Brian, who had been deep in conversation with John as they walked into the concert hall, truly looked up at me for the first time since arriving and instantly froze, mouth slightly ajar, as he blatantly stared at what I had on. I watched as Brian’s eyes started at the top of my head, roamed all the way down to my feet, and climbed back up again in a matter of seconds. I couldn’t help but smile a little to myself inwardly at the effect that my clothing choice seemed to be having. Who knew that a mini skirt and a skimpy top could garner a person so much attention?

I could see out of the corner of my eye that Roger had noticed Brian’s reaction, and clearly wasn’t happy, as he continued quietly sorting through his equipment, scowling at his friend all the while.

Brian blinked his eyes a couple of times, cleared his throat, and then casually asked Roger if he needed any help carrying his equipment up to the stage.

“No, I don’t,” Roger said tersely, trudging away with a cymbal stand in each hand.

If Brian noticed the chilly manner in which his friend answered him, he didn’t let on. Instead, he walked outside to the van to see if John Harris needed any help, while the other three guys continued to sort through equipment and slowly drag everything up onto the stage.

I, meanwhile, just stood around not quite knowing what to do with myself, while Mary took a seat with Veronica and continued to give me the occasional glacial stare. I didn’t really feel like finding a seat and sitting all by myself, and I certainly wasn’t going to sit with the other Queen women, so, mini skirt or not, I decided to be useful and help the guys out rather than just standing around and doing nothing. I walked over to the growing stack of equipment, as Brian and John Harris brought in more, and found a couple of pieces to Roger’s kit that were light enough for me to carry.

“What are you doing?” Roger asked, racing down the stairs at the side of the stage to take the bits of drum set out of my hands.

“Helping,” I said. “Did I grab the wrong things?”

“No, but you don’t need to do this, leave it to the fellas and me,” he said, taking the equipment out of my hands.

“I don’t have anything else to do,” I sulked.

“Why don’t you go talk to Veronica and Mary?” Roger asked.

“I, uh, I don’t think they really like me all that much,” I said quietly, leaning in toward Roger so that only he could hear me.

We both glanced over at Mary and Veronica, who were still giving me the evil eye, their heads together whispering something that neither of us could hear, and Roger said, “You don’t really get on with other girls that well, do you?”

“You’re just now figuring this out?” I smirked.

“Fine, help all you want,” Roger finally conceded after a bit of thought, “but don’t try and lift anything too heavy. Oh, and don’t bend over in front of any of the fellas with that outfit on. Brian’s eyes already about popped out of his head when he saw you.”

“Need I remind you that you picked this outfit out for me?” I simpered.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t think you’d be playing roadie in the damn thing,” Roger scowled.

“I’ll be careful, I promise,” I said, heading back over to the mountain of equipment. 

Brian had just wheeled in a couple of amplifiers alongside John Harris, and Freddie and Deaky were sorting through a multitude of mike stands and guitar leads when I walked up.

“So, what needs to go up next?” I asked the four of them.

“Why?” Brian asked, giving me a genuinely confused look.

“I’m trying to help out,” I said. “Give me something I can carry, and I’ll take it up on the stage for you.”

Brian, Freddie and John all exchanged a bemused expression before Freddie turned toward the stage and shouted, “Roger! You’ve got your woman doing your work for you now?”

“She wanted to help!” Roger yelled back, as he fitted one of his tom-toms onto his base drum.

“It’s true,” I shrugged at the guys. “I’ve got nothing else to do.”

“Well you can’t be carrying equipment around wearing that!” Freddie exclaimed.

“Why not?” I demanded. “Just hand me what you want me to take up there, and I’ll take it.”

Brian, Freddie and John all shook their heads at me, letting me know in no uncertain terms that I was far more trouble than I was worth. Nevertheless, they each took turns finding me things that were light enough for me to carry, despite the ridicule that they were receiving from their roadie, John. I decided then and there that in the future I was going to have to bring something along to their shows that would keep me busy while the guys were otherwise occupied. Why hadn’t I thought to bring a book for God’s sake? I only had about a million of the damn things back at my flat.

Finally, slowly but surely, everything was transferred to the stage. The guys were meticulous with everything, making sure that all the equipment was set up just right and that the sound was perfect. With there being nothing left for me to do, I decided to take a seat in the front row toward the right side of the stage, away from the other two girls, who were sitting more to the left side of the stage so that they could be closer to Freddie and John I assumed, and listened as the guys ran through most of their set. I was sitting directly in front of Brian, and couldn’t help but notice that he kept glancing my way from under his thick, dark lashes. Our eyes would make contact, we’d smile awkwardly at each other, and then we’d both look quickly away. After this had happened several times over, I was really, _really_ wishing that I’d brought that book!

The sound checks seemed to take forever, but eventually the guys agreed that there was nothing left that they could improve upon, and decided that it was time to get ready for the show.

The backstage area was chaos, with Freddie making sure that everyone looked just so. Every belt, sash and bow tie had to be perfectly in place. Roger, of course, looked cute, as always, but I wasn’t sure about the combination of a tiny black sequined vest and tight black satin pants with stripes down the sides. And Brian almost looked more feminine than I did with his long flowing hair and the fake fur collar on his shirt. I kept my opinions to myself though. Freddie was happy about the way everyone looked at least, and since it was all a part of his vision, then that seemed to be all that mattered in the end.

The show itself went off without a hitch. The guys were relaxed and in top form. The crowd was larger than at the show they’d done on the 10th at King’s College Hospital, with many of their acquaintances showing up to demonstrate their support. Annie and a couple of girls from school turned up just as the show was starting as well, and everyone seemed to have a great time as the guys ran through their eleven song set.

It was during the song _Great King Rat_ that I spotted a middle-aged guy with thinning dark hair and a mustache sitting one row behind me and several seats to my left, and I found myself wondering if he was the recording studio executive that the band was hoping would be in the audience that night. I figured it had to be, because he stood out like a sore thumb amongst all the college aged kids, with his stiff mannerisms and stuffy suit and tie.

Sure enough, after the show the guys came out to meet and greet the people in the audience, and the man with the mustache approached them, announcing that he was Barry Sheffield with Trident Studios. I was listening in several feet away, my heart beating a mile a minute, as he told them that he’d come to their show on the advise of Roy Baker, the man who had produced their demos. He said that he loved their look and their sound and that he was interested in signing them to a recording contract. The energy and excitement in the air at that moment was palpable, and I wanted so badly to squeal with delight, but I bit my lip and decided that I’d better refrain.

The guys found a somewhat secluded spot in the hall and sat down to talk with Barry Sheffield for what seemed like ages. I spotted Annie and the two girls that she’d brought with her standing near the back of the hall, and wandered over to say hi and thank them for coming to the show, my nerves completely in shreds as I hoped and prayed for wonderful things for Queen.

“We were happy to come! Sorry we were a little late though,” Annie said. “We had a hell of a time finding this place.”

“That’s okay,” I said distractedly, peering over at the guys from time to time to see how things were going.

“You know Gwen, right?” Annie asked, motioning toward the cute petite blonde standing beside her.

“Yes, of course,” I said, reaching out to shake the girl’s hand. I didn’t know her well, but I did have a couple of classes with her.

“And this is Olivia,” Annie went on, introducing a tall willowy brunette, whom I didn’t recognize at all. “She’s in the master’s program for English at King’s College.”

“Oh, okay, nice to meet you,” I said, extending my hand.

“In case you haven’t figured it out yet, this is Carrie, the one I was telling you about that’s going out with Queen’s gorgeous drummer,” Annie explained to her friends with a smile.

“Lucky girl,” Olivia sighed.

“Ooh, careful,” Annie said, holding up a warning hand. “Carrie nearly ripped the heart out of the last girl who flirted with her man.”

“No I didn’t,” I laughed. “I just gave her a black eye.”

Gwen and Olivia exchanged a worried look, and I peeked over my shoulder again, biting my lip, trying to see if the guys were making any progress.

“You’re very distracted tonight,” Annie said.

“What? Oh sorry,” I replied, turning back to face her. “That guy sitting with the band is a recording executive from Trident Studios, and I think he’s offering the guys a recording contract.”

“Oh my God! Really?” Annie asked, craning her neck to get a better look at the man with the mustache.

“Really,” I said. “I’m just picking up on the guys’ nervous energy right now I think.”

“Wow! You may end up being the wife of a famous rock star one day!” Annie teased, punching me lightly on the shoulder.

“Oh, please,” I said, shaking my head. “One step at a time. I’m just barely getting used to being the girlfriend of a future rock star!”

“Well, you certainly look the part tonight,” Annie smiled. “I love your outfit!”

Olivia and Gwen nodded their agreement.

“Oh, thanks. I’m sure Freddie would be thrilled to hear you say that. He informed me today that I needed to start looking more glamorous at their shows,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Ah, he’s the other one from Kensington Market, right?” Annie asked.

“The one and only,” I said sarcastically. “If you guys come by my place tonight you can get to know all of them better.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Annie said. “And knowing you, how much food did you make for tonight?”

“What?” I asked innocently.

“Oh come on, admit it, you love to feed people,” Annie laughed, then turned to Gwen and Olivia and said, “The first two times I went over to her place, she made biscuits for me, and we were always ordering take away.”

“Okay, so I like to eat,” I shrugged. “And I didn’t buy that much food, just some crackers and chips and dip and drinks – no big deal.”

“Mm-hmm, and let me guess,” Annie went on, “you probably made some of your famous oatmeal biscuits.”

“No, chocolate chip actually,” I grinned, looking a little sheepishly at the ground.

“God, you’re so funny the way you always want to take care of everybody! You’re going to make the best mum in the world someday, I hope you know that,” Annie laughed.

“Who’s going to make the best mum?” Roger suddenly asked from behind me, reaching out to wrap his arms around my waist. I hadn’t even seen him walk up!

“Carrie of course,” Annie said.

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” Roger asked with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation.

“The way she’s always feeding and taking care of everyone,” Annie responded.

“I don’t think Roger wants to think about me being a mum,” I laughed, tilting my head back to see if my boyfriend had a horrified look on his face or not. To my surprise, he just smiled back at me.

“No, Annie’s right. You will be a great mum someday,” Roger said. “The operative word being _someday_.”

The five of us laughed, and Annie told Roger that she couldn’t believe that he actually remembered her.

“Of course I remember you. Carrie talks about you all the time,” Roger said. “Now, I don’t think I know these other ladies though, do I?” Roger asked me.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said, shaking the cobwebs out of my head. “Olivia, Gwen, this is Roger, Roger this is Olivia and Gwen. Olivia is an English major at King’s College, and Gwen is taking 19th Century Studies like Annie and me.”

“Very nice to meet you,” Roger smiled.

“So what happened with that Barry Sheffield guy?” I asked Roger as I turned to face him.

“Well, it looks promising,” Roger replied. “Freddie and John would probably sign right now, but there were a couple of things that Brian and I didn’t like, so we’re all going to talk things over and see if we can come to some sort of an agreement with Trident.”

“Wow! So this could really be it, huh?” I asked excitedly.

“Could be,” Roger said with a shrug.

“Hey Rog!” Brian called out, walking toward our little group. “We’re going to start tearing the equipment down!”

“Okay!” Roger called back.

Brian flashed me a nearly imperceptible smile, and then turned to head back toward the stage.

“I’d better go,” Roger told me. “It shouldn’t take too long to pack everything up though.”

He gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, and then ran off across the hall to join the others.

“God, how did you find him?” Olivia asked me with a sigh, watching Roger’s retreating backside. “Does he have a brother?”

“No,” I said, trying not to be irritated by this girl that I barely knew ogling my boyfriend. “He does have a sister that I haven’t met yet though.”

“I was going to ask about the other one,” Gwen said with a shy smile. “The tall fella with the dark curly hair.”

“Brian?” I asked, smiling inwardly as I watched him walk away with that slightly slouched long-legged stride of his. I had to stifle a laugh as I thought back to the pervious morning and the shocked expression on his face as I walked in on him getting out of the shower. I shook my head slightly, trying to get rid of the vision of his naked body in my head, and simply said, “He’s a great guy.”

“Single?” Gwen asked with a hopeful gleam in her eye.

“Um, yeah, actually, he is,” I said slowly, realizing as the words left my mouth how difficult they were for me to say. Gwen waggled her eyebrows, and suddenly developed a little spring in her step as she watched Brian climb the steps to the stage. My heart squeezed inside my chest as I studied the rapt expression on her face. She was cute and petite and the kind of girl that any guy would probably love to go out with, and the thought of her wrapped up in Brian’s arms made me feel sick in the pit of my stomach.

Well, she simply couldn’t go out with him, I thought to myself, as I looked toward the stage and watched as Brian wound up his guitar lead. I didn’t care if she was the sweetest, kindest most wonderful girl on the planet, she couldn’t have my Brian.

Wait… Had I actually just thought of Brian as being _mine?_ Oh no. Oh no, no, no. This was not good.

I felt a shiver of fear start in my chest and work it’s way out through my entire body, as I finally had to admit to myself once and for all, that what I felt for Brian was more than just friendship.


	22. Chapter 22

I forced myself to clear such disturbing thoughts from my head. I still had a long night ahead of God only knew how many people coming to my tiny little flat. I had to focus on the tasks at hand. I had a party to host and people to entertain. There would be time later to figure out exactly what it was that I felt for Brian. And once I did figure it out, then what? It left me with a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Once the guys were finished tearing down their set and packing it up, Roger and I raced back to my place so that I could get everything ready before people started showing up for the party. Or at least, that was my plan. When we arrived, a couple of guys that I didn’t recognize were already standing at the top of the stairs inside my building near my front door waiting for us.

“Hey Mick! What’s up mate?” Roger called out jovially to a guy with long dark hair and shaggy sideburns as we ascended the stairs.

“Not much man! I haven’t seen you in ages,” Mick replied in a thick northern accent, reaching out to shake Roger’s hand. The other guy just stood quietly, not saying a word, while I went to unlock the door.

“God, it has been ages!” Roger replied with a smile. “You never come into Kensington Market anymore!”

“I was just there two days ago, and you and Freddie weren’t there.”

“Ah, we were in Brighton,” Roger replied.

“That’s what Freddie was telling me when we talked on the phone last night,” Mick said.

Roger finally turned toward the other man standing there, and said, “Dave, right? Brian’s mate?”

“Yeah, I wasn’t sure if you remembered,” the guy chuckled quietly.

“I haven’t seen you in a while man, you look different,” Roger said. The guy was tall, similar in height to Brian, with shoulder-length shaggy brown hair and a long thin face.

“Yeah, I’ve grown my hair out since you saw me last,” Dave answered.

“Well come in and sit down,” Roger said, motioning toward the open door of my flat, where I stood listening intently to their conversations. “Freddie and Brian should be here soon.”

Both men walked past me and smiled on their way toward the couch.

“Oh, uh, fellas,” Roger called out from the doorway as an afterthought. “This is my girlfriend, Carrie, by the way.”

“Hi,” both guys said to me.

“Nice to meet you,” I replied.

It seemed very strange to have people that I didn’t know in my cozy little flat. Up until I met Roger, the most action my place had ever seen was Annie coming by, or maybe a pizza delivery guy at the door. A sense of panic started to wash over me as I realized that I now had to entertain these people, and I dashed into the kitchen to start putting all the food and drinks together.

“Do you need any help with anything?” Roger asked me, poking his head through the kitchen door.

“No, no, I’ve got it,” I said, waving him away. “Go ahead and go talk to your friends.”

Roger smiled and sauntered off into the living room where Mick immediately started to assail him with questions and comments about Freddie. I figured out relatively quickly that this Mick character must have been in a band with Freddie at some point before Queen, so clearly he’d known the guys for a while. It occurred to me belatedly that I hadn’t offered anybody anything to drink, so I dashed into the living room to see what everyone wanted, mentally chastising myself for being remiss in my hostess duties.

“Sorry to interrupt guys, but does anyone want anything to drink?” I asked. “We have beer and wine, or I can make a cup of tea if you’d rather have that.”

“I’ll take a beer,” Roger said as he lit up a cigarette.

“Me too,” said Mick.

“Sounds good,” Dave added.

“Got it,” I nodded and went back into the kitchen, procured three beers from the fridge and took them to the guys along with a bottle opener. No sooner had I set the bottles down when a knock sounded at the door. I rushed over to open it, and there was Freddie, Mary, John, Veronica and Brian all standing on my doorstep.

“Hey guys! Come in!” I exclaimed, motioning with my hand toward the living room.

“Mick! You made it!” Freddie cheered, spotting his friend on the couch and making his way across the room to give him a handshake and a hug.

Brian was the last to walk in, so I closed the door and smiled up at him saying, “I think the quiet one on the couch belongs to you.”

Brian gave me a slightly perplexed look, and then realized that I was talking about his friend Dave.

“Hey Brian!” Dave called out, getting up from the couch to walk over and shake his friend’s hand.

“Dave! I’m so glad you made it!” Brian exclaimed. “Did Roger introduce you to Carrie?”

“Yes, we’ve been introduced,” said Dave, nodding toward me with a shy smile.

“So, how’ve you been?” Brian asked his friend, clapping him on the shoulder and walking with him back to the couch to take a seat.

I went back to the kitchen and couldn’t believe the amount of noise coming from the inside of my flat. It was as if someone had taken a busy London street corner and air lifted it into my living room. Having so many people crammed into my tiny place was starting to make me a little uneasy, I had to admit, and I was seriously starting to rethink my decision to have the party there in the first place. At least at Freddie’s we could all come and go as we pleased. God only knew when I would get all these people to leave!

I was just getting the dip out of the fridge, when Roger practically bowled into me, asking for more beer for everyone. I got out of his way, and let him dig enough beer out of the fridge for all the latest arrivals, and then set about arranging the dip and chips in bowls, taking the food a little at a time into the living room and setting it on the coffee table. The room was already strewn with people all over my furniture, the floor, or anywhere else they could find a spot, and then a knock sounded at the door once again, signaling the arrival of even more people.

I answered the door and it was Annie, Gwen and Olivia.

“Hi guys! Come in! I hope you can find a spot,” I said, motioning my head toward my already crowded living room. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“What have you got?” Annie asked.

“Uh, we’ve got beer, wine, tea…” I said, counting down on my fingers.

“Ooh, a glass of wine sounds nice,” Annie replied, Gwen and Olivia both agreeing with her.

“Coming right up!” I said, heading back into the kitchen.

I pulled a bottle of red wine and a bottle of white wine out of the fridge, poked my head out of the kitchen door and called out, “Annie! Which one?”

“The white one would be lovely, thanks!” she called back.

“I’ll take a glass of that too!” Roger called, getting up off the floor to follow me into the kitchen.

“Are you done with your beer already?” I asked with a shocked expression, as he walked behind me toward the sink.

He held up his empty bottle and shook it in reply, and I shook my head back at him in disbelief.

“What?” he asked innocently. “I had a long hard night of drumming. I was thirsty.”

“Yeah, okay thirsty guy, help me open the wine bottles then,” I smiled, handing him a corkscrew.

I got a selection of wine glasses down from one of my cupboards, poured out a glassful for Roger, Annie, Gwen, Olivia and myself, and the bottle was gone.

“So much for that,” I told Roger. “You’d better open up a couple more.”

Roger helped me take the ladies their wine, and the only thing left to do was put out the plates of crackers and cookies. I set the last of the food on the coffee table, and immediately about three hands reached for a cracker or cookie amidst all the talking and laughing. Somehow there was still an arm on the couch that wasn’t covered by a human, so I grabbed it while the getting was good, placing myself between Freddie’s friend Mick on one side and John on the other.

Annie complemented me on my chocolate chip cookies and homemade dip, and a few of the others, including Brian, agreed with her, saying how good they thought everything was and thanking me for going to so much trouble. I thanked everyone in return, flashing Brian a quick smile, and then Mick started laughing suddenly and went into a story about the good old days.

“Hey, do you remember that time when we made those little pot cakes and gave some to the cops?” Mick asked Freddie.

“What?” I questioned, looking from Freddie to Mick with a horrified expression. Freddie started laughing hysterically.

“There was another chap in our band Ibex called Tupp that had quite the pot smoking habit,” Mick explained to me. “So one day, he made these little cakes with pot in them for a party we were having. The cops showed up because a neighbor had called them about all the noise we were making, and what does Freddie do but give some of the cakes to the cops, trying to make it look as though he was eager to please as he promised them that we’d keep the noise down!”

“Lord, that sounds like something Freddie would do!” I laughed.

“I would have loved to have been a fly on the windscreen of their police car that night when the pot finally kicked in!” Freddie cried.

“Me too!” Mick agreed. “We’re probably lucky that they didn’t come back to arrest us!”

“You lot are mad,” Brian grinned, taking a swig of beer and shaking his head. “I’m glad I wasn’t there that night.”

“Hey, should we put some music on? Carrie’s got a killer stereo system,” Roger announced.

Everyone sort of generally agreed as they continued talking and eating, and Freddie immediately jumped up, insisting that he be the one to pick the record.

“Not without my supervision you don’t! You had them all out of order the other day,” I complained as I sat down on the floor next to him while he flipped through the LPs on the bottom shelf of my cabinet.

“Oh Lord, darling, stop being so fussy!” Freddie said flippantly.

“No,” I argued back. “My stuff, my rules.”

“Ugh, fine,” he mumbled dismissively, pulling records out one at a time to look at the covers. “Let’s see what we’ve got here… Monkees, and even more Monkees. Well I’m sure as hell not putting them on…” 

“Hey, trivia question for you,” I said nudging Freddie in the arm. “Who opened for The Monkees on seven of the dates for their 1967 North American tour?”

“How the hell should I know?” Freddie asked. “I don’t listen to the Monkees.”

“Yes, but I thought you were their opening act’s biggest fan,” I teased.

“You don’t mean Jimi Hendrix?” he scoffed.

“The one and only,” I replied. “The fans booed him off the stage and screamed for Davy.”

“How do you know this?” Freddie asked me incredulously.

“Know what?” Roger asked, flopping himself down on the floor in between us.

“Your girlfriend says that Jimi Hendrix opened for The Monkees back in ’67,” Freddie said.

“No, he can’t have,” Roger said disbelievingly.

“It’s true,” I shrugged. “I was a big Monkees fan back in those days, hence the reason why I have all their albums.”

“The Monkees? Really?” Roger asked me, shaking his head. “I don’t know, I may want to rethink this relationship now…”

“Oh no! I won’t let you get away that easy!” I laughed, grabbing his arm and pulling him toward me for a quick kiss.

“Ah, here we go,” Freddie said, extracting one of my records. “ _Disreali Gears_ by Cream.”

“Excellent, I haven’t listened to a Cream record in a while,” Roger said, getting up off the floor to open up the lid of my record player.

Freddie handed the record to Roger, got up off the floor as well, and within seconds, the song _Strange Brew_ was blasting from my speakers. I looked over and saw that the chips and dip were already running low, so I got up and grabbed the bowls off of the coffee table, and headed into the kitchen to refill them.

I heard someone following behind me, and assumed it was Roger, but instead when I turned around, I saw Freddie standing next to me.

“Hey,” I said. “Can I get you something?”

“I’ll take a glass of wine if you’ve got more,” Freddie answered.

“Coming right up,” I said, procuring another glass from the cupboard. “Red or white?”

“Mm, white sounds nice,” Freddie replied. His mouth curled into an impish grin then as he asked me, “So what are we going to do to liven this party up?”

“What are you talking about?” I questioned. “We just put a record on, and everybody’s laughing and talking and having a good time.”

“Yes, for right now,” Freddie conceded. “But you’ve got to do something to keep the party going.”

“And what do you suggest?” I asked sarcastically, handing him his glass of wine. “And don’t tell me you think we should play spin the bottle, or some stupid shit like that.”

“No, I’m done with all that silliness now,” Freddie said with a dismissive wave. “But there must be something we could do.”

“You know, I did play a party game once where you had to pass an orange down a row of people using just your necks,” I said thoughtfully. “That was kind of fun. And then there’s cocktail party games, like when you blindfold all of the girls and they have to feel the faces of all the men at the party and guess who is who.”

“Ooh, that sounds fun,” Freddie said excitedly. “But instead of feeling the men’s faces, how about we up the ante and have them kiss them instead?” 

“What?! No…” I said, shaking my head vehemently.

“Oh come on, it would be fun!” Freddie grinned over the rim of his wine glass.

“What are the two of you up to now?” Roger asked, coming into the kitchen for another glass of wine, followed closely by Brian, who was after another beer.

I told the two of them what Freddie and I had been discussing, and much to my chagrin, they too thought that kissing sounded like a much better idea than just touching faces. Was nobody ever on my side? I thought irritably.

“Seriously?!” I asked Roger incredulously. “After what happened at Freddie’s the last time we were all together, you really think this is going to go down well?”

“It’s just kissing,” Roger shrugged. “We’ve done stuff like this at Freddie’s loads of times.”

“Not with me you haven’t,” I reminded him.

“Come on, don’t get upset,” Roger wheedled. “It could be fun.”

“Fine, but once the girls have had their turn then the guys get to be blindfolded and the girls will get to kiss them – all of them – full on the mouth, maybe even with tongue,” I said directly at Roger, raising an eyebrow as if to challenge him. I was hoping that maybe the thought of me kissing a whole room full of guys might change his mind, but clearly he wasn’t seeing it that way.

“Sounds like fun to me!” Roger said with a crooked grin, looking at Brian for confirmation. Brian nodded his head slightly and took a swig of his freshly opened beer.

Lord, here we go again, I thought. Freddie’s little scheme had disaster written all over it. This was going to make the whole Twister episode seem like a cakewalk at a kid’s carnival, I just knew it! I was seriously kicking myself for mentioning any types of party games to Freddie at all. Why hadn’t I just kept my big mouth shut?

I shoved the chips and dip roughly at Roger, irritated and hurt beyond belief that he seemed so eager to play a game that involved kissing every girl in my flat, and said, “Here, take these over to the coffee table for me.”

Roger, in turn, shoved the dip at Brian, so that he could grab his glass of wine. The two of them wandered back into the living room, with Brian muttering something under his breath about Roger being in trouble.

“Shut up,” I heard Roger snap at him.

“So how is the game going to work?” Freddie asked me eagerly before taking a sip of wine.

“I don’t know, you tell me. You seem to be the one that’s got it all figured out,” I said impatiently, gulping down the rest of my glass of wine before pouring myself another.

“Oh come on,” Freddie urged. “Don’t be like that. Roger’s right, we’re just talking about kissing, not a fucking orgy for God’s sake.”

“Fine,” I said flatly, shaking my head. “We blindfold the girls first, one at a time, and each guy has to go up and kiss whoever has the blindfold on. Someone will have to keep score of how many guys each girl gets right, and whoever gets the most right, wins. Afterwards we do the same thing with the guys.”

“Perfect, I’m going to go tell everyone,” Freddie declared, heading into the living room with a renewed spring in his step.

I quickly snatched up my glass of wine and followed him. He turned down the music a bit, got everybody’s attention, and explained his proposal for the game. The plan seemed to be a hit, with Gwen and Olivia giggling excitedly over the very idea. I narrowed my eyes as I watched Gwen’s gaze stray toward Brian.

Freddie’s friend Mick just laughed and slapped his knee, saying, “Man, same old Freddie! Always has to do something crazy at a party!”

“Yes, amazing, isn’t it?” I sneered, glaring at Freddie. I turned my attention to the rest of the group and said, “Listen, if anyone doesn’t feel comfortable playing this game, then please don’t feel like you have to.”

I needn’t have worried, everyone was already laughing and giggling and more than eager to play. I looked around the room at all the girls and thought about each one of them kissing Roger, and I could feel my hackles start to rise. I then turned my attention to the guys, and thought about having to kiss each of them. It was going to be weird to say the least. Some of them weirder than others, I thought, as my gaze strayed toward Freddie and John.

I shook my head and walked away toward my bedroom to find something that we could use as a blindfold, along with a tablet and pen to keep score. There was so much noise coming from the living room that I couldn’t hear the sound of someone following behind me into my bedroom.

I was rifling through the contents of my dresser, looking for an old hairband that I thought might work as a blindfold, when someone touched my arm. I whirled around, clutching my chest, and saw that it was Brian.

“God! You scared me,” I breathed.

“Sorry,” Brian laughed. “I thought you heard me come in.”

“No, I didn’t. What’s up?” I asked, turning my attention back to the drawer.

“Just making sure you’re okay with this whole game thing, you seemed kind of upset,” Brian said in a concerned voice. “You know, you don’t have to play if you don’t want to. Take your own advice and stay out of it.”

“What, and let Roger have all the fun?” I asked irritably. “No, two can play at this game. If he’s so excited about the prospect of getting to kiss every girl sitting in my living room then why shouldn’t I be just as excited about kissing all the guys?”

I found the hairband at last, and closed the drawer with a snap.

“Besides,” I added, leaning my back against the dresser as I looked up at Brian with a playful grin, “I’ve already kissed two of the guys playing, so I think I’ve got an advantage.”

I walked past him across the room and bent over slightly to get into the drawer of my nightstand, looking for a tablet and pen.

Brian cleared his throat and turned to follow me, saying, “You’re, uh… you’re driving me a little crazy tonight, you know.”

“Why?” I asked, completely oblivious, my mind still dwelling on Roger kissing a roomful of girls as I continued looking for the tablet and pen.

“That, um, that skirt is a little distracting,” Brian said in a throaty voice.

I froze, my hand resting on the very tablet I’d been looking for. I turned and looked up at Brian, who was watching me with desire clouding his beautiful hazel eyes. I straightened up slightly, and found my gaze straying toward Brian’s soft pouty lips.

“I, um…” I was at a complete loss for words.

Brian closed the distance between us in half a second, pulling me into his arms for a deep, passionate kiss. The tablet and pen were instantly forgotten, as I reached up to wind my fingers in Brian’s long curly hair. The smell of his shampoo and cologne and the taste of beer on his breath were intoxicating as I surrendered myself to him completely, our bodies pressed tightly together, our tongues exploring each other’s mouths with a fervor that was hard to contain. His hands slid slowly down my back coming to rest on my bottom, his greedy fingers grasping at the fabric of my short skirt as they worked their way inside, caressing the soft skin that lay underneath.

I moaned and sighed into his mouth, wanting him desperately. I had thought that I could put off analyzing my feelings for Brian, that if I pretended that the feelings didn’t exist, then perhaps I would never have to confront them. What a fool I was. I’d been so busy trying to convince myself that the only thing I felt for Brian was friendship that I couldn’t even see how much he really meant to me. I hadn’t allowed myself to see how much I loved his smile or the way that his perfect hazel eyes lit up when he laughed that deep throaty laugh of his. I hadn’t been able to give in to the longing that I felt for his warm, soft lips. I hadn’t been able to appreciate what a sexy, charming, kind and compassionate person he truly was. Until that moment.

My bed was just inches behind me, and it would have been so easy to allow my desires to run away with me, to fall with Brian into a tangled, passionate heap where we could block out the rest of the world and finally give in to what we both so desperately wanted.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, however, through the desire filled haze that was clouding my brain, I could hear Roger laughing loudly at someone’s joke in the other room, and my heart plummeted to my feet. Regardless of my feelings for Brian, I did still love Roger, and I couldn’t hurt him in such a thoughtless way.

“Brian, I can’t do this…” I said, having to call upon every ounce of will power that I possessed to pull away from him.

Brian closed his eyes and sighed, leaning his forehead against mine, frustration written all over his face. “I’m sorry,” he said at last.

“Don’t be sorry,” I whispered. “The truth is, if I’d met you before I met Roger, things might be very different between us.”

“You have no idea how many times I’ve wished that I had met you first,” he said, stepping away from me and raking a hand through his already tousled hair. He paced across the room, trying to gather his thoughts, before finally turning to me and saying, “I need you to know something. I need you to know how much I genuinely care about you, and that when Roger breaks your heart, I’ll be there for you.”

“ _When_ Roger breaks my heart?” I asked.

Brian shook his head slightly over his choice of words, and said, “I didn’t mean it like that. Please… just know that I’m always here for you.”

He turned then and left the room, leaving me staring after him in a heart wrenching state of pain and anguish. I had never felt so lost and confused in my entire life as I did in that moment.


	23. Chapter 23

I took a deep breath, straightened up my clothes and hair and reentered the living room a few moments later wondering if anyone had even known that I was gone.

Freddie pounced on me instantly, jerking me sharply back into reality by exclaiming, “Where have you been, darling? We can’t very well start the game without you, you know.”

“Oh, I was getting a blindfold and a tablet to keep score on,” I said distractedly.

“Well, everyone’s ready to play, so let’s get started!” Freddie said eagerly.

I nodded and took a moment to compose myself, trying not to dwell on the sight of Brian standing quietly in the corner nursing a beer, looking completely crestfallen. I decided to throw myself back into the festivities, and shouted out over the din, “Okay, everyone, take a few minutes to familiarize yourselves with each other before the game begins. Does everyone know each other by now?”

I saw a few confused expressions as everyone glanced around the room.

“Okay, listen, I’m going to say everyone’s name and point to who they are,” I shouted. I walked over to the stereo to turn the music down a little more, and everyone began to quiet down. “I’m pretty sure that everyone here knows our resident band members, but just in case, that’s Freddie, that’s Roger, that’s John, and over there we have Brian.”

I pointed out each of the guys in turn, and they each held up a hand and waved as I said their name, making my job much easier.

“My name, although I think most of you already know it, is Carrie, and I’m Roger’s girlfriend,” I said, continuing on with the introductions. “Over here we have Freddie’s girlfriend, Mary, and John’s girlfriend Veronica. A few of my friends from college are here, Annie, Gwen and Olivia, and Freddie’s friend Mick is over there, along with Brian’s friend Dave.”

Everyone glanced around whispering and muttering to each other, taking mental notes as I ran off everybody’s name.

“Okay, rules are, girls are going to go first. One girl will be blindfolded at a time and each guy will go up and kiss her in a random order of my choosing. Ladies, after you are kissed, you’ll have to say who you think kissed you, and the person with the most right answers wins. After the girls are done, we will repeat the process all over again with the guys. Any questions?”

Apparently there were none.

“Okay,” I said. “Which girl is going to be brave enough to go first?”

“Why don’t you go first so you can show us how it’s done?” Mick teased from over on the couch.

“Oh no, I’ll be going last,” I replied decidedly.

“I’ll go first!” Annie volunteered, getting up off the floor.

Most of the guys cheered and whistled, happy to have their first victim, including Roger, I noted.

I handed Annie the blindfold, and while Gwen was helping her put it on, I gathered all the guys together and lined them up.

“Okay,” I told them, “starting from my left, you guys are numbers 1 through 6. I’m going to call you up at random, and I’m just going to use my hands to show you who’s number I’m calling so that the girl in question doesn’t know who you are, so pay attention for your turn.”

“Yes sergeant major,” Roger said, standing at attention, saluting me sarcastically. He happened to be number three in the line-up.

“You be quiet,” I told him angrily.

Annie was finally ready, so I stood off to the side of the room to call the guys up one at a time. I wrote Annie’s name at the top of the first sheet of the tablet, and made notes of what order everyone kissed her and whether or not she guessed correctly. I figured I’d get the most difficult part over first, and picked Roger as the first guy.

All the guys whistled and cheered him on, slapping him on the back as he walked out of the line-up. He looked over at me innocently, and I just shook my head at him, feelings of anger and disillusionment rising to the surface inside of me. At first Roger seemed slightly embarrassed as he walked up to Annie, but his embarrassment didn’t last long. I was completely devastated as he gave her a real, passionate, open-mouthed kiss that went on entirely too long.

That son of a bitch, I thought to myself, seething as I watched him kiss my best friend with far more enjoyment than was necessary. Well, I decided, what was good for the goose was good for the gander, as the old saying went, so when it came time for me to be kissed, I wasn’t going to hold back in the slightest.

Once the kiss was finally over, Roger walked back to the line-up grinning from ear to ear like a naughty child who had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, and I asked my friend through slightly clenched teeth, “Okay, who was that Annie?”

“Well, knowing you, you probably sent Roger up first just to see what he’d do, so I’m going to guess Roger,” Annie replied.

Damn it, she knew me too well.

I called Freddie up next, and we went through the whole roster of guys with Annie getting only Roger and Freddie right in the end. Each girl took her turn, and each girl got a full, passionate kiss from Roger as I just stood there and looked on helplessly. Veronica and Mary, I was surprised to see, knew pretty much every band member by heart, and gave their answers quickly. All those games of spin the bottle at Freddie’s I had no doubt.

Finally it came to be my turn, and I was very nervous. Annie took over my duties as game caller, and helped me tie the blindfold around my eyes. Try as I might, I couldn’t see a thing. It was a very disconcerting feeling.

“Are you ready?” Annie asked me.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” I answered.

“Okay, first boy is coming up right now,” she trilled.

I was trying very hard not to start shaking, and failing miserably. I licked my lips, and parted them slightly, unsure of what to expect. Suddenly, someone’s lips were on mine, and I knew for certain that they didn’t belong to Roger or Brian. Freddie had a relatively big mouth and thick lips (not to mention his protruding teeth), so I didn’t think that it felt like him, and whoever it was wasn’t exactly putting a lot of heart into it. After watching Mick plunge his tongue into every other girl’s mouth I didn’t think that it was him either, so that left the two shy guys, John and Dave.

“Um, I’m going to guess John,” I shrugged, shaking my head.

“Okay, next!” Annie called.

This time it was obvious who it was, even though he was trying to disguise himself as best he could. I could tell it was Roger even before he touched me, just by his scent alone. Instead of giving me the big, passionate kiss that he’d lavished on every other girl in the room, he gave me a small peck, undoubtedly thinking that it would be hilarious to react to his own girlfriend in such a tepid way.

“Dumb ass,” I muttered to him venomously.

I could hear several people around the room laughing at my expense, and wasn’t pleased.

“It’s Roger,” I told Annie irritably.

Soon the next guy approached me, and this time there was definite tongue action, not to mention that whoever it was felt slightly scruffy.

“I’m going to guess Mick,” I said.

“Okay, next!” Annie called again.

I heard a slight snort of laughter from whoever was standing in front of me before they kissed me, and I suspected that it was Freddie. Sure enough, when the person kissed me, I could feel large lips and protruding teeth.

“I’m pretty sure that was Freddie,” I said, reaching up to swipe at my mouth with the back of my hand.

“Okay, next!” Annie laughed.

This was another timid one – no open mouth, no tongue – I figured it had to be either Dave or John, and since I’d already guessed John, then I guessed Dave.

“Last one!” Annie called out.

I knew it was Brian before he ever touched me. I could smell his shampoo and cologne, and the softness of his lips as they joined with mine was a dead giveaway. My heart began to race as he deepened the kiss, plunging his tongue into my mouth, the tastes of wine and beer combining between us. It was as if he was finally given free reign, and he was going to make the most of it. He certainly hadn’t kissed any of the other girls the way he kissed me, I noted.

I could hear everyone whistling and cheering in the background, and then I heard Roger clear his throat loudly from somewhere off to my side. Finally Brian pulled away from me, leaving me breathless.

“That, um, was definitely Brian,” I choked out.

I didn’t know it in that moment, but just that one word “definitely” was going to seriously come back to bite me in the ass.

When I took the blindfold off, the first thing that my eyes landed on was Roger standing a few feet away looking extremely pissed off. His arms were folded across his chest, as he scowled at me malevolently. Everyone else was too wrapped up in the game to notice besides me, and Freddie was already excitedly calling out that it was time for the guys and girls to trade places. He took the tablet from Annie and went over the scoring process with her, then made all of us girls line up just like the guys had. I was number 2 as it turned out.

“Okay, I’ll go last,” Freddie announced. “So who’s going to go first?”

“I will!” Mick eagerly volunteered. Somehow that didn’t surprise me.

Freddie tied the blindfold around his head, and asked, “Ready?”

“Yep!” Mick declared. He was very obviously into the concept of kissing a whole room full of girls for a second time.

Freddie, of course, had to pick me first, so I rolled my eyes and walked up to Mick to give him his kiss. All the other guys were standing off to the side of the room waiting for their turns, Roger still glaring at me, and Brian looking solemnly at the ground as I kissed Mick.

I tried to make the kiss a quick one, but before I knew it, Mick’s tongue was in my mouth. He really wasn’t a very good kisser, I decided. I was finally able to pull away and walked back over to my place in line, wishing that I had about a gallon of mouthwash at my disposal.

“Let me think, whose lips were those?” Mick asked out loud. “I’m going to guess the tall brunette girl, Olivia.”

I quirked an eyebrow at Olivia, who was standing two girls away from me, and she did the same right back at me. She had a wide thin-lipped mouth, much different from my smaller pouty mouth, so I wasn’t quite sure how he’d come to that conclusion. The roster of girls continued on with Mick only getting one right in the end.

Next up was Roger, who stopped scowling long enough to try and enjoy himself. For once, I actually found myself not knowing how to kiss him. We were both clearly upset with each other, and to be honest, I wasn’t entirely sure that I felt like kissing him at all in that moment.

Every other girl went up in quick succession, most of them laying the kisses on pretty thick, particularly Olivia. Roger got most of them right, except that he mixed up Annie and Gwen, and then I was the last to go up.

I waltzed up to him and decided that I was going to kiss him just like I always did, passionate and deep, and pretty much the same way that most of the other girls already had. The only difference was that it didn’t feel right. The spark that was normally there when our lips touched suddenly wasn’t. The kiss felt flat, like a song comprised of nothing but one note.

I walked away, feeling angry and confused, but Roger, ever the comedian, said, “Hmm, let me think. I don’t know. Who was left again? Oh, that’s right, it must have been my old lady.”

Old lady?? My head screamed. It was a term that he’d used on me once before, jokingly, and I had told him never, ever, to use it again. He knew that it was something that I absolutely loathed, and I could feel the anger starting to boil inside me as I glared across the room at him. Okay, I thought. If he’d been pissed off over the way that Brian had kissed me then I was going to give him one hell of a show when it was my turn to kiss Brian.

Brian, as it turned out, ended up going second to last. My chest clenched with jealous rage as I watched two of the girls walk up and kiss him in quick succession. I was the third to go up, and Roger just stood perfectly still, glaring at the two of us as he gulped down his fourth glass of wine.

A shiver of anticipation ran down my spine as I approached Brian. He looked ridiculously adorable with the blindfold smashing down his curls around the sides of his head, and I couldn’t help but smile a little. I kissed him softly at first, and then I could feel the recognition dawn on him, as he opened his mouth for a deeper, longer kiss. Everyone watched as we continued to go at it, mouths devouring one another’s, tongues tasting and playing with each other’s with wanton abandon.

“You go Brian!” Mick called out from the other side of the room.

“Holy fuck,” I heard Freddie mumble.

When I finally pulled away, Brian and I were both left gasping for air.

I walked back to the line-up with every girl staring a hole through me.

“I’m not sure how we’re supposed to top that,” Annie mumbled, looking over at me with a slightly shocked expression.

“Well Brian?” Freddie asked.

Brian cleared his throat and simply said, “Carrie.”

Freddie was the last person to play, and was clearly excited by the prospect of being the center of attention. He recruited Roger to fill in as game caller, even though he was now on his fifth glass of wine and getting drunker by the minute.

Roger cheerfully called up three of the girls in quick succession, Annie, Mary and Veronica, then he looked to me, and his expression turned very dark as he motioned for me, number two, to go up. To say that it was awkward to kiss Freddie would have been the understatement of the year. In the end, Freddie ended up getting only Mary and Veronica right.

The winners of the game, once everyone’s scores were tallied up, ended up being Brian and me. Apparently we had both gotten everyone right by simple deductive measures. Everyone laughed and joked about it, asking both of us how we were able to figure out who we’d been kissing.

“I bet I know how they got each other right…” Roger mumbled, walking past us toward the kitchen.

Brian and I seemed to be the only two that heard what he’d said, and gave each other a slightly guilty look.

“Hang on a second!” Annie suddenly shouted, walking across the room to grab her purse. She started digging through the contents, saying, “I think I may have…Yes!”

She pulled what appeared to be a couple of brightly colored folded bits of paper out of her purse and held them up.

“I thought I might still have these in there somewhere!” she exclaimed. “They’re crowns from Christmas crackers!”

“Why do you still have Christmas items in your purse when it’s March?” I asked her with a crooked smile.

“I don’t know, just couldn’t be bothered to toss them out I suppose,” she said with a shrug. “But I’m so glad I still have them, because now you and Brian can wear them as King and Queen of the kissing game!”

She opened up a bright pink one first and placed it on my head, then the second one, which was blue, and placed it on Brian’s head. I wasn’t sure she was going to get it to fit over his hair at first, but somehow she managed.

“Everyone! May I present the King and Queen of the kissing game!” Annie exclaimed, holding one of our arms aloft in each of her hands.

The whole room applauded our efforts, and Freddie broke into a rousing chorus of _For He’s A Jolly Good Fellow,_ with nearly everyone joining in. Brian and I were amused and embarrassed all at the same time, and kept glancing at each other and laughing throughout the song.

Eventually the excitement died down, but Brian and I continued to wear our crowns. I noticed that some of the plates and bowls of food were getting low on the coffee table, so I walked over to pick them up and take them into the kitchen. I was struggling to carry the chips bowl, the dip bowl and the cracker plate all at once, so Brian came to my aid and offered to help me carry something.

As the two of us walked into the kitchen, we saw that Roger was standing just inside the door drinking another beer, watching the party all on his own with a bitter expression on his face.

“I’d like to have a word with the two of you outside if you don’t mind,” Roger said to Brian and me in a chillingly calm voice as we walked past him.

“Rog, you’ve had a lot to drink mate…” Brian started to say, setting the chips bowl down on the counter.

“Don’t you dare try to play dad with me, you fucking backstabber!” Roger shouted angrily, slamming his beer down near the sink.

“Roger!” I yelled as quietly as I could. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Of course you defend him! How long has this been going on?” Roger demanded.

By this point, I could see heads starting to turn out in the living room at the sound of our raised voices.

“Fine, you want to have a word outside? Let’s go,” Brian said, stalking past Roger out of the kitchen toward the front door. Roger followed right behind him, and I followed behind Roger. I could feel every eye boring into our backs as we left.

The three of us tromped down the stairs noisily, walking in a huff out into the dark, chilly March evening. We stood in front of the coffee shop below my flat, which thankfully was already closed for the night.

“What the hell is your problem?” Brian demanded.

“The two of you are my problem!” Roger shouted. “When were you planning on telling me that you’re fucking my girlfriend?”

“I’m not fucking your girlfriend!” Brian argued.

“Like hell you’re not!” Roger shot back. “Nobody else in there kissed the way you two did tonight! And you…”

Roger pointed at me now.

“Oh, that’s _definitely_ Brian,” he drawled, mocking my voice, American accent and all. “How could you know that it was _definitely_ Brian, if you hadn’t been kissing him before?”

I was about to open my mouth and defend myself, when Brian stepped in to defend me instead.

“Don’t you dare take this out on her! It’s not her fault! You want to be pissed off at someone, be pissed off at me!” Brian shouted.

It was at this point that Freddie, John and Mick quietly slipped outside through the downstairs door to see what was going on.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t be pissed off at both of you!” Roger cried with a manic laugh.

“Because she’s not the one that’s been coming on to me! I’ve been coming on to her! I’m the one that kissed her!” Brian shouted.

“I knew it,” Roger fumed. “You son of a bitch…”

Roger moved toward Brian with his fists clenched, but Freddie and Mick grabbed him and held him back.

“Roger, think about what you’re doing,” Freddie admonished.

“Yeah, calm down man. It was just a game we were playing up there,” Mick added.

“Apparently not for these two it wasn’t!” Roger exclaimed. “They’ve already done their fair share of snogging behind my back!”

“Can I say something here?” I said, throwing my two cents into the mix. “Regardless of what Brian and I have done in the past, you were just as bad tonight! You sure as hell stuck your tongue down the throat of every girl at the party without a second thought! Including Freddie’s girlfriend, John’s girlfriend, and my best friend!”

“So you admit that you and Brian have done something!” Roger shouted, completely ignoring the last part of my argument. “What have you two been doing then, eh? Screwing each other when I’m not around?”

“We haven’t done anything!” I screamed. “And considering the fact that you and I are almost always together, I hardly see how that would be possible!”

“Yeah, well, you won’t have to worry about that anymore,” Roger mumbled.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I questioned.

“I’m not going to listen to this bullshit anymore,” Roger said throwing his hands up in the air. “I’m outta here…”

He stomped over to the door leading upstairs and slammed it behind him as he went in. I looked up at the kitchen window of my flat and saw that nearly every girl inside was watching what was going on outside, gossiping behind their hands and craning their necks for a better view.

“What the hell is going on with you three?” Freddie demanded. “We could hear you all the way upstairs!”

“Nothing’s going on!” Brian argued. “Roger’s just drunk and over reacting!”

“Is he right? Is there something going on between you two?” Freddie asked, looking back and forth between Brian and me.

“No,” Brian and I said in unison.

“Well you have to admit, the two of you were laying it on pretty thick tonight!” Freddie exclaimed. “If you wanted to piss Roger off, you picked a perfect way of doing it!”

“Fine! You’re right. This is all my fault,” Brian said, running his hands through his hair, tearing at the paper crown and crumpling it up. He paced up and down the sidewalk, and then turned to Freddie, John and Mick and said, “Can I have a few minutes alone with Carrie, please?”

“Fine,” Freddie said, shaking his head. “I’m going to go upstairs and try to calm Roger down.”

All three guys left, and Brian shuffled his feet uncomfortably, still running his hands through his hair. He walked over to the door leading up to my flat and pounded it with his fist. He took a deep breath, looked at me and said, “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say.”

“You said it yourself, Roger just had too much to drink tonight,” I said with a dismissive wave of my hand. “He’ll get over it.”

I said it with a conviction that I most definitely did not feel. I’d never seen Roger so angry, and I was seriously afraid of the effect that this argument would have not only on our relationship but on the friendship of Brian and him as well.

“Are you going to be okay?” Brian asked, reaching out to touch my arm.

“Oh yeah, I’ll be fine,” I said, trying to sound as reassured as I possibly could. “Hopefully Roger will sleep this off and see reason in the morning.”

Just then, to my surprise, Roger came flying out through the door with a lit cigarette dangling from his mouth and the suitcase he took to Brighton clutched in his hand. He pulled his keys out of his pocket, and went to unlock the passenger side door of his car.

Freddie came rushing out after him, shouting, “Roger, you shouldn’t drive like this! Don’t be stupid!”

“I don’t fucking care,” Roger grumbled, opening the car door and tossing the suitcase onto the seat.

“Where are you going?” I demanded.

“Back to my place,” Roger stated flatly.

“Roger, you’re making too much of this!” I cried. “You’re drunk! You’re going to get hurt!”

“Why should you care?” Roger asked, yanking the cigarette out of his mouth. “You’ve got a new boyfriend now, remember?”

“Brian is not my boyfriend!” I screamed. “Please don’t leave like this!”

Roger reached up to his throat, pulled the key to my flat, which he wore as a necklace, off of his neck, and thrust it out toward me.

“Here, I don’t need this anymore,” he said.

“I’m not taking that back! I gave it to you!” I cried, tears welling up in my eyes.

“Fine, here,” Roger said, tossing it to Freddie. “Give it to Brian. He needs it more than I do now.”

Roger got into his car and locked the passenger side door as I lunged for it.

“Roger! Open the door!” I yelled, pounding on the car window. Instead, he started up the engine and threw the car into gear, completely ignoring my pleas. Brian reached out to pull me out of harm’s way just as Roger hit the gas. The tires squealed loudly against the pavement and without a backward glance, Roger sped off into the night.

“Oh my God…” I breathed, tears streaming down my face. I crumpled to the ground, landing on my knees. “He left me.”


	24. Chapter 24

“Carrie, I’m so sorry…” Brian dropped to his knees beside me, wrapping an arm around me.

I was crying hysterically, hands covering my face. I felt as though someone had just ripped my heart right out of my chest.

“How could he do this to me?” I kept mumbling over and over. “What if something happens to him? What if he gets into an accident?”

I knew that if anything happened to Roger, I’d never survive it.

“Freddie,” Brian commanded, attempting to take control of the situation. “Could you please go upstairs and get everyone to leave? And then go to Roger’s, make sure he made it home okay, and call Carrie to let her know?”

“What are you going to do?” Freddie asked.

“I’m going to take Carrie for a walk while you clear her place out. She doesn’t need to deal with all those people right now,” Brian answered.

“I don’t want to go for a walk,” I sobbed.

“Come on, it’ll do you good,” Brian said, heaving me up onto my feet.

Freddie did as Brian asked and went upstairs to tell everybody that the party was over. Brian wrapped an arm around me, practically holding me up, as we walked toward the end of my street. We turned the corner onto Bedford Street, and kept on going.

“Come on, it’s going to be okay,” Brian soothed, squeezing my shoulders. “I’m sure Roger is fine, and as soon as he sobers up, everything is going to get back to normal.”

I was thankful that Brian was trying to help, but really, everything he said felt like nothing more than meaningless words in that moment. My brain was numb. The only things that were able to register in my head were Roger’s safety, and the searing pain in my chest that I felt knowing that I wouldn’t wake up with my boyfriend beside me in the morning.

Brian and I ended up making a complete circuit around my block, and by the time we got back, Freddie was ushering the last couple of people out the door, one of which was Annie.

She spotted Brian and me coming up the street toward my building, and rushed over to me, taking my hands in hers.

“Oh my God, sweetheart, are you going to be okay?” Annie asked me.

Her words barely registered with me, and I just gave her a generic answer. “Yeah, I’ll be fine,” I nodded.

“I’m going to stay with her tonight and make sure she’s okay,” Brian said softly. “Has everybody left now?”

“Yeah, everybody’s gone,” Annie replied. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay and help clean up or anything?”

“No, don’t worry about it,” Brian said. “I’ll take care of it.”

“You’re lucky to have a friend like him, you know that?” Annie said to me, squeezing my hands slightly. “I’ll call tomorrow and see how you’re doing.”

Finally everyone was gone, and the only thing left to do was wait for Freddie to call after he’d checked in on Roger. Brian helped me up the stairs into my flat, which looked like a hurricane had hit it, and walked me to the couch where I slumped down and promptly started to cry again. Everything around me reminded me of Roger. The ashtray filled with his cigarette butts on the coffee table, the TV remote that he was constantly fiddling with, and even the couch itself where we were always lounging together all brought the thought of him to the forefront of my mind.

I couldn’t believe that he was gone. I was angry and confused and so deeply hurt over the way he’d left that I felt like I was going to be sick. How could he do such a thing to me? How could he just leave without getting the full story from me? After all we’d been though, how could he possibly think that I would lie to him and cheat on him? It was unfathomable, and the more I thought about it, the angrier it made me feel.

Somewhere in the recesses of my brain, amongst all the anger and pain, it registered that I was still wearing my mini skirt and boots, and that I was rather uncomfortable. Brian had begun clearing away all the food and empty drinks off of the coffee table, and started slightly when I suddenly stood up.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his hands filled with empty and half empty beer bottles. “Can I get you something?”

“No, I’ve got to go change out of these clothes,” I said.

“Oh, okay, um…” Brian stammered, unsure of what he should do.

“Don’t worry,” I said holding up a quelling hand. “I’ll be fine. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

I shuffled off into my bedroom and sat on the edge of my bed to take off my boots. I could still faintly smell Roger’s cologne from when he’d put it on earlier that day, and a stabbing pain grabbed at my heart. I walked to my closet to put the boots away and thought about Roger standing there with me that very afternoon, helping me pick out my outfit for the concert. I walked back over by my bed and thought about all the things Roger and I had done on that particular piece of furniture as I unzipped my skirt, pulled my top over my head, and unclasped my bra. I dug a pair of old P.E. shorts from my high school days out of my dresser along with a pale blue t-shirt that read “Simonian Farms - A Fresno Tradition Since 1901” and put them on. I walked into the bathroom, turned on the light, and realized that all of Roger’s things were gone. His toothbrush, his cologne, his deodorant were all missing from the counter. It certainly didn’t seem like the sign of someone who was ever planning on coming back.

I looked in the mirror at my tear stained face and trails of mascara running down my cheeks, and knew that I had to wash up. I tied my hair back into a ponytail and scrubbed every ounce of make-up off of my face. I grabbed a towel to dry off, and heard the phone ring in the living room. I raced out of my bedroom to find that Brian had answered it.

I stood staring at him anxiously as he said, “Hi Freddie, what’s going on? Mm-hmm. Good. Okay, I’ll tell her. Freddie, you don’t need to worry about it, okay? Look, I’m just here as a friend to make sure she’s all right. Yeah, whatever, it’s my business not yours. Fine, I’ll talk to you later.”

Brian set down the receiver with a click, and turned to me. “Roger’s fine,” he said reassuringly.

“Oh thank God!” I cried, tears welling up in my eyes.

“Freddie said Roger wouldn’t let him in his flat, but at least we know he made it home okay,” Brian said.

“Okay, good,” I mumbled, wiping a stray tear from my face. At least I knew he was safe and not lying in a gutter somewhere. In my heart I knew that the best thing for him at that moment was to just sleep off all of the wine and beer he’d consumed, so that hopefully, he could see reason again.

I looked around my flat and was amazed to see how clean it was already starting to look thanks to Brian. I felt bad that he was doing all the work, and said, “Brian, you don’t need to pick all this stuff up. I can take care of it.”

“I don’t mind,” Brian shrugged, waving away my concern. “Why don’t you just sit down and relax. Feel like watching the telly?”

“No, let me help you clean up,” I said. “I need to do something to keep my mind occupied.”

The two of us took the last few empty wine glasses from the coffee table and walked them into the kitchen, where I immediately set about filling the sink with soap and water.

“You wash, I’ll dry?” Brian asked with a slight grin.

“Sounds good,” I replied. I pointed at the third drawer below my counter and said, “There’s a dish towel in that drawer right there.”

“So, tell me,” Brian began, fishing a towel out of the drawer. “What is Simonian Farms?”

“What?” I asked, my mind still elsewhere.

“Your shirt,” Brian said, nodding his head toward me.

“Oh,” I said, looking down. “It’s, um, a farm in Fresno, and they have a store where you can buy their produce and various other things. They have all kinds of antique farm equipment and stuff on display. It was always one of my favorite places to go when I was a kid.”

“So, it’s been around for about 70 years. Is that old for Fresno?” Brian asked, as I handed him the first dish to dry.

“Yeah, I know that doesn’t sound like much by England’s standards, but for Fresno, that’s pretty old,” I smiled weakly. I was amazed that he’d actually gotten me to smile at all.

We stood side by side in my kitchen washing and drying until everything was clean and put away. Brian asked me every question he could think of about my life in Fresno, and my years at Stanford, and I had to admit that I was grateful for the distraction.

Once the dishes were done, I reached for one of the bottles of wine that was still on the counter. It was very late, and the wine seemed like a very tempting way to drown my sorrows before going to bed. Alone.

Brian put his hand on my arm as I made for one of the freshly washed wine glasses, and said, “You’re not going to pour a glass of wine, are you?”

“I was thinking about it,” I answered.

“That’s not the way to solve your problems right now, it’ll just make you feel worse,” Brian said softly. He took my hand in his and said, “Come on…”

He led me out to the couch and turned on the TV. There was a re-run of _The Old Grey Whistle Test_ with David Bowie on BBC2, so the two of us sat quietly and watched it.

I leaned my head on his shoulder and asked, “Why are you so good to me?”

Brian interlaced the fingers of his right hand with the fingers of my left, and sighed, “I should think that would be obvious by now. I like you. A lot.”

I turned my head to gaze up at him, and found that he was already looking at me, his face just inches from mine. He bent his head to kiss me lightly on the lips. I half expected him to try and go farther, but instead he just looked into my eyes and quietly said, “It’s been a long night. You should try and get some sleep.”

I put my head back on his shoulder, and eventually drifted off to the sounds of David Bowie singing _Queen Bitch,_ while Brian and I held tight to each other’s hands.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

The next morning I woke up lying next to Brian on my couch, the two of us facing each other, his right arm around me, and his left underneath my head. He was sound asleep still wearing the clothes he’d worn the night before, and breathing softly through his mouth. His usually fluffy hair was flattened and plastered against the side of his face. His right leg, I noticed, was tossed casually over the top of my legs, as if he was trying to keep me from falling off of the couch. So different from Roger, I thought, who was always splayed out across my bed every morning, taking up as much space as humanly possible.

Roger. The thought of him sent a searing pain through my chest and left my eyes burning with tears. I found myself wondering what he was doing at that very moment. I could tell by the dim light filtering through my living room window that it was still early, so knowing him as I did, he was probably still sound asleep and hung over from the night before. I wanted so badly to go to him and explain everything until he understood. Make him come back to me and never leave again.

And yet, as I lay there looking at Brian’s sweet face, I wondered how I would explain the fact that I had just spent the whole night in his best friend’s arms. How could I explain away the fact that I had feelings for Brian, that I felt comfortable and safe with him, that I truly loved being around him? 

How and when had all of this happened? I wondered. I wasn’t even sure.

I gently tried to extricate myself from Brian’s embrace, and immediately, he began to stir. His eyes fluttered open slowly as he reached up to wipe the hair out of his face and take in his surroundings. His eyes landed on mine, and he whispered, “Good morning.”

“Morning,” I said with a soft smile.

“I guess, um, I guess we both fell asleep,” he said, rubbing his eyes.

“I guess so,” I replied.

Brian stretched and shifted a little, and then laughed softly as he said, “Do you know, I think my left arm is completely numb?”

“Oh God, I’m sorry,” I said, twisting myself around so that I could sit up and remove my heavy head from his body.

“No, it’s fine,” he smiled, rubbing his arm with his free hand. “Did you sleep okay at least?”

“Fine, surprisingly,” I admitted. “The last thing I remember is seeing David Bowie on TV, and then I woke up here with you.”

“I’m sorry,” Brian said. “I meant to take you to your bed once you fell asleep, but I guess I was more knackered than I realized.”

“It’s okay,” I said, looking down at the floor. “I wasn’t really looking forward to sleeping in that bed all by myself anyway.”

Brian sat up and shook his arm trying to get the blood to flow back into it, and asked, “So what are your plans for today?”

“I don’t know,” I shrugged. “Please don’t feel like you have to stay all day with me though. I know you’ve got better things to do than babysit some heartbroken American girl.”

“Actually, I’ve got nothing to do,” Brian said, shaking his head slightly. “In fact, I was wondering if you’d like to go for a bit of a drive?”

“A drive?” I asked.

“Yeah, we could go anywhere really,” Brian said. “But I sort of have a place in mind that I’d like to show you.”

“Really?” I asked.

I suddenly felt very torn. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings and tell him no, but at the same time, I was hoping beyond hope that Roger might call or come by.

“I don’t know,” I said at last. “I think I just feel like sitting around in my PJs today doing a whole lot of nothing.”

“Listen, I’m not going to let you sit around and wallow in self-pity. That’s not going to accomplish anything. The best thing you can do is to keep your mind occupied.”

I knew he was probably right, but what if Roger did call or come by, and I wasn’t at home?

“I don’t know…” I said, slouching back against the couch.

“Come on,” he said standing up. “I’ve got it all planned out.”

He reached for my hand, pulling me up off the couch, and dragged me off in the direction of my bedroom.

“You go get dressed, and we’ll stop by my place for a minute so I can change, and we’ll spend the day breathing the fresh air of the English countryside,” he said.

“The English countryside?” I questioned.

“I’ve said too much already,” he smiled, shaking his head. “It’s going to be a surprise.”

Now he genuinely had my curiosity piqued. He walked me into my bedroom, and was just about to turn and leave when I asked, “Well, what am I supposed to wear to this ‘surprise’?”

“Something casual and comfortable,” Brian said, leaving my bedroom and closing the door.

“Casual and comfortable, huh?” I mumbled to myself, as I rummaged through my closet. I found my favorite bell-bottomed jeans and donned those along with my Stanford t-shirt and sneakers. While I was in my closet, I also pulled out my camera in case I felt up to taking any pictures, and a hooded zip-up sweatshirt in case wherever we were going got cold. I combed my hair, brushed my teeth, put on a little bit of make-up, trying to hide all the crying I’d been doing, and decided I was ready.

We stopped by Brian’s and I sat on his couch while he took a quick shower and got dressed. He’d acquired a coffee table since the last time I’d been in his place, I noticed, which made me think back to the last time I’d sat on his couch with Roger after a long night of drinking and pool playing at the Kensington. The floor in front of his couch had been empty then, except for the blankets and pillows where Brian had slept that night so that I could have his bed. A brief smile touched my lips at the thought of his kind and caring nature.

“Are you ready?” Brian asked me as he walked out of his bedroom sporting black bell-bottoms, a white button-down-the-front shirt with the sleeves rolled up slightly and damp hair. I noticed that he was holding his camera as well.

“I think so,” I said. “I brought my camera if you don’t want to worry about having to take yours.”

“That’s okay, I’d like to bring mine too. We might have different perspectives for our picture taking. We can sit down together after the photos are developed and trade notes,” Brian smiled.

“Fair enough,” I laughed.

“See, you’re smiling and laughing! Getting you out of your flat for the day is working already,” Brian said.

We piled into his Mini and headed out, driving through a warren’s nest of British roads, heading toward an unknown destination. Well, it was unknown to me at any rate. Thankfully Brian seemed to know where he was going.

We had been driving nearly an hour, and were passing through farmland and country lanes, when Brian turned to me and asked, “Do you know where we’re going yet?”

“I haven’t a clue,” I admitted.

“Well, we should be there in a few minutes,” he grinned.

We went around a large roundabout, and turned down another small road, when a brick cottage soon came into view.

“Is that? No, it can’t be…” I breathed.

Brian pulled the car up in front of the cottage and said, “Welcome to Jane Austen’s house.”

My hand flew up to my mouth as I stared out the car window looking at a building that I’d only ever read about in books.

“Oh my God! I can’t believe we’re sitting in front of Jane Austen’s house!” I exclaimed. “Brian, you’re so sweet! I could kiss you!”

Brian blushed slightly and said, “Well, if you must…”

I looked from Brian’s eyes to his mouth, his lips slightly parted, and realized that I truly did want to kiss him. I leaned in toward him and touched his lips with mine, gently at first, and then Brian moaned softly and wrapped his arm around me, pulling me in for a longer, deeper kiss. I drank in the scent of his cologne and almond scented shampoo, and the taste of minty toothpaste on his breath. His lips, as always, felt so soft and inviting. It would have been tempting to just sit in his car all day kissing him, I thought to myself. But, Jane Austen’s cottage beckoned, so I pulled myself reluctantly away from Brian, the two of us looking at each other with hunger in our eyes.

“You realize that you can’t blame me for always kissing you now, right? That kiss was all your fault,” Brian breathed.

“I know,” I sighed. “I guess we’d better go see Jane Austen’s house, or we’re liable to stay here in your car all day.”

“Mm, I wouldn’t mind,” Brian smiled.

After a couple more kisses we finally decided to gather up our things and get out of the car. Brian took a series of photographs of me posing out in front of Jane’s house with his camera, and I took a couple of him with mine. I tried to capture every angle of Jane’s house and the surrounding area on film so that I could always remember that day. After all, who knew when I’d ever go back again?

We walked through the front door, and were greeted by a very friendly elderly lady sitting at a small table writing something in a ledger.

“Welcome to the Jane Austen House and Museum,” she said cheerfully, clearly happy to have a couple of guests in an otherwise empty house.

“Thank you,” I smiled, noticing that there was a jar for donations sitting next to her. I reached into my purse and procured a £1 coin, dropping it inside.

“Are you a fan of Jane Austen’s work?” the lady asked me.

“Oh, very much so,” I gushed. “I can’t believe I’m standing in her house.”

The lady chuckled and said, “Well, feel free to look around, dears, and if you have any questions, all you need to do is ask.”

Brian and I walked from room to room, with me “oohing” and “aahing” over every little thing. I was enthralled by the hand-forged nails in the original wood plank flooring, which Brian found highly amusing, since he was used to seeing that sort of thing in old British buildings all the time. I pointed out the silhouette portrait of Jane hanging on the wall in the sitting room and a lock of Jane’s hair in a display case, all with Brian standing right by my side, asking me questions and sounding as interested as he possibly could. Then, it was as if the heavens had opened up and smiled down upon the very thing I’d dreamed of seeing and touching for years – Jane Austen’s writing table.

“Oh my God,” I breathed. I looked at Brian and said, “Do you know that this is the Holy Grail for Jane Austen fans?”

“Well, you’ll have to explain to me, I’m afraid, because it looks like nothing more than a small wooden table,” Brian laughed.

“This was Jane’s writing table,” I said, walking up to touch it lightly. “This was where she revised _Sense and Sensibility, Pride and Prejudice_ and _Northanger Abbey,_ and wrote _Mansfield Park, Emma_ and _Persuasion._ ”

“Wow, you do know your Jane Austen,” he said.

I looked up at Brian and said, “Thank you so much for bringing me here. And thank you for being so patient with me and my Jane obsession.”

“It makes me happy to see you happy,” Brian said, pulling me in for a hug.

We continued to walk through the house, Brian holding my hand at that point, and we saw Jane’s bedroom, along with the quilt that she, her mother and her sister, had all been working on in the early 1800s. There were first edition copies of Jane’s books, the topaz crosses that Jane’s brother had given to her and her sister Cassandra, and Jane’s pianoforte, including her original sheet music, still completely intact.

“Freddie would love this, wouldn’t he?” Brian asked, running a hand gently across the piano keys.

“He would undoubtedly want to sit down and regale us with a concerto,” I laughed. “And then we’d probably get kicked out for mistreating Jane’s piano.”

After we’d seen the whole inside of the house we walked out to the courtyard in the back and went into the old bake house with its original bread oven. Again, the Jane Austen gods smiled upon me. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I spotted Jane Austen’s old donkey cart still sitting in the bake house, as if it was waiting for her to come out and take a drive into town. Brian watched with amusement as I touched the seat where Jane used to sit almost reverently, and had to take a few pictures of me standing next to the donkey cart, as well as the brick oven, and anything else we could find that seemed interesting or important.

Eventually, I decided that I’d seen pretty much everything that there was to be seen, and the two of us walked back into the house in order to go out through the front door.

“Well, what did you think of the place dears?” the little old lady asked us as we were leaving.

“It was amazing,” I sighed. “I can’t believe how much of Jane’s life and work has been preserved here.”

“What about you, dear, what did you think?” she asked Brian.

“Very fascinating,” Brian answered with a nod. “It really is like stepping back in time to a day in the life of Jane Austen, or anybody living in the early 19th century really.”

“Well, I’m glad the two of you enjoyed it. This place has really become a labor of love for those of us who take care of it,” the lady said with a smile. Then she set down the papers she’d been shuffling, and gazed up at Brian and me. “You know, I just have to tell you, I was watching the two of you going through the house, and you’re just the most handsome couple.”

Brian and I looked at each other a bit sheepishly, and simply said “Thank you.”

“You really are,” she continued. “You’re so tall and dark and handsome, and you’re so pretty and blonde and petite, you just seem to compliment each other.”

“Thank you, that’s very sweet of you to say,” I replied.

Brian and I glanced at each other and couldn’t help but smile. I realized in that moment that this little old lady, whom I’d never met before in my life, was able to see something after only a short period of time that I’d been too blind to see for weeks, that Brian and I did seem to go together. There was no doubt about it. Our personalities, our likes and dislikes, all seemed to blend perfectly. And then, of course, there was that obvious physical attraction that we’d been denying for what felt like an eternity. I was starting to wonder why hadn’t I listened to my heart sooner.

I tore my gaze away from Brian, and the two of us were about to leave, when I suddenly remembered a question that I wanted to ask the little old lady before she started distracting me with compliments.

“Quick question,” I said to her. “How far is Steventon from here?”

“Oh, about 15 miles,” the lady answered. “But you know that Steventon rectory is no longer there.”

“I know, but it would still be pretty neat to see the area where Jane grew up,” I said.

“I thought this was where Jane grew up,” Brian remarked.

“No, this is where Jane spent the later years of her life,” I explained. “The tiny village of Steventon, and Steventon rectory, is where she grew up.”

“Well, if her house isn’t there anymore, is there anything left to see?” Brian asked.

“Well, St. Nicholas Church is still there,” the lady explained, “along with some other houses and buildings that Jane would have known in her time. And, if you look at the original site where her house stood, you can still find the water pump that the family would have used, and the lime tree that Jane’s brother James planted in 1813.”

“Do you have a map of the Steventon area?” I asked her.

“I have a map of Hampshire and I could mark the roads you need to take,” she answered.

I looked to Brian and said, “What do you think?”

“It sounds fine to me,” Brian said. “As long as we can stop and find something to eat. I’m starving.”

“Me too,” I said, rubbing my stomach.

“The Crown in Axford is quite nice,” the lady said. “And you’ll pass right by it on the way to Steventon.”

We paid the lady for the map, thanked her so much for all of her help, and finally headed for the door. She made a point of telling Brian how beautiful his hair was, and what a cute couple we made one last time before we were finally able to make our escape once and for all.


	25. Chapter 25

Brian and I chuckled all the way out to his car about the lady working in the Jane Austen Museum, and of course, I had to tease him about his beautiful hair all the way into Axford. Luckily The Crown was as easy to find as the lady said it would be, and we stopped in for lunch.

The building was a typical old English establishment, with two stories, white washed walls, and four small windows facing the road. The inside had fireplaces at each end, lots of dark wood covering every surface, and battered old wooden tables and chairs for its patrons. Portraits of kings and queens past hung on the walls, along with various other antique decorations, and I instantly fell in love with its history and quiet ambiance.

Brian and I had a leisurely lunch of fish ‘n’ chips and beer, and sat talking for at least an hour about everything we’d seen and done so far that afternoon. I had to admit, I was happy that he’d talked me into going for a drive instead of staying at home in my PJs, where I would have undoubtedly sat wallowing in self-pity all day waiting for the phone to ring. And something in my gut told me that it was a phone call that would have never come.

After we left The Crown, we drove the rest of the way into Steventon, which ended up being pretty far off the beaten path. We passed the turnoff for it twice before we finally saw a small sign pointing us in the right direction. Once we were in the actual village, finding the spot where Jane Austen lived also proved to be quite difficult. Thankfully we found the old St. Nicholas church, and decided to make that the starting point for our adventure.

The church was very quaint, and built in the year 1200, as we found out. It was a small stone building with a peaked roof and very few adornments. The inside was equally plain, with rows of standard wooden pews, and only a few stained glass windows to let in light. But there was a plaque on one of the walls representing the fact that Jane Austen had worshipped there during her life, along with several mentions here and there of the Digweed family, which I knew from my many books, was a family that Jane Austen knew well and wrote about frequently in her letters. The outside of the church contained several crumbling gravestones, and Brian and I spent some time going around reading the names and dates on each, and wondering what the people must have looked like in their day. The two of us spent a lot of time taking pictures of everything as well, including one of the two of us together outside the church, taken by the rector with Brian’s camera. Thankfully the rector happened to know exactly where Jane Austen’s house once stood, and was able to point us in the right direction.

We walked from the church to the empty bit of land that once contained Steventon Rectory, and I swore I could feel the Austen family’s spirits watching over us as we looked for the famous water pump and lime tree. We found both, and Brian and I took plenty of pictures of each.

From there, the two of us just walked around the rest of the village, looking at the surrounding landscape and buildings, and I couldn’t help but wonder how many times Jane Austen herself had trodden the same paths we were treading. Brian and I talked with ease about any subject that came to mind as we walked. He broached the topic of his PHD thesis again, and explained to me in further detail exactly what he was researching and writing about. I didn’t understand half of what he told me about the development of the universe and interplanetary dust, but I listened patiently nonetheless and asked questions where I could. I told him about the neighborhood that I grew up in in Fresno, how I became interested in history, and the things that I’d studied at Stanford.

Before we knew it, we were at least two or three miles from where we’d started off at St. Nicholas’ church, and we decided that we’d better turn back. We continued chatting all the way back toward the church, and eventually it started to get dark. I happened to notice how pretty the moon was that particular night, and pointed it out to Brian. It was a crescent moon, bright yellow, and hanging very low in the sky. Brian explained to me that the yellow color was just atmospheric scattering of light, but I didn’t really understand completely what that meant. I just thought it looked pretty, whatever the reason, and told him as much.

“It does look pretty, you’re right,” Brian laughed. “You know, this would be a great area for star gazing. There aren’t a lot of street lights or anything to interfere with seeing the night sky clearly.”

“I’ve always been curious about constellations and things,” I admitted as we walked along. “I find myself looking at the night sky and wondering what I’m looking at exactly.”

“Feel like doing a bit of star gazing?” Brian asked me with a little lilt to his voice.

“Sure,” I said with a shrug. “Where can we go?”

“Any of these open fields should do,” Brian said, motioning off to the side of the road. We were nearly back to St. Nicholas’s church by that point, which was pretty much in the middle of nowhere, so there were open bits of land stretching out all around us.

“You don’t think anyone will get mad at us for being on their property?” I asked.

“I doubt anyone will even know,” Brian replied. “Come on…”

He reached for my hand and the two of us trudged off the road into an open field, where we found a nice dry spot to lay back and gaze up at the sky. We were laying side-by-side, heads grazing each other’s as Brian pointed out several constellations to me, including Gemini, Cancer, Leo, Ursa Major and The Plough.

“That looks like The Big Dipper to me,” I said, trying to figure out what he meant by “The Plough”.

“That’s right, I almost forgot, you call it the Big Dipper in America,” Brian said.

“I had no idea that it was ever called anything else,” I laughed. “Shows you how much I know.”

“I think it’s one of those things that represents something different to different cultures. In England, I suppose people thought it looked like a plough. I’ve also heard it called a saucepan or a butcher’s cleaver. I guess in America your people thought it looked like a ladle or a dipper, hence the name.”

“Fascinating,” I said. “And that bright star, is that the North Star?”

“Mm, yes, Polaris,” Brian said. “And over there you can see Venus, and over there is Mercury.”

“Oh, not Mercury!” I exclaimed. “I’ll feel like Freddie is spying on us!”

Brian chuckled and said, “He does have a way of turning up at inopportune moments, doesn’t he?”

“That he does,” I agreed. I turned my head to look at Brian then, and said, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” Brian said, turning his head to look at me as well.

“How much did you and Freddie actually see in the hotel room at Brighton the other day?”

“You mean the afternoon after you and Roger had your row?” Brian asked.

“Yes,” I said.

“Quite a lot actually,” Brian said slowly. “Freddie and I were both a bit like deer in headlights. We didn’t necessarily want to watch, well, Freddie might’ve, but we couldn’t seem to look away either.”

“Oh my God. That’s so embarrassing,” I groaned, covering my face with my hands.

“You were, um, very impressive,” Brian confessed. “I found myself feeling very jealous of Roger in that moment.”

“Really?” I asked.

“Oh yes,” Brian affirmed.

“Well, you were pretty impressive too when I saw you getting out of the shower the next morning,” I smiled.

“Oh yeah? In what way?” Brian asked, turning over on his side and propping himself on one elbow to look at me.

“Well, if I’m being honest, you have a much nicer body than I thought you might,” I said sheepishly, feeling the tips of my ears turning red.

“And why is that?” Brian asked quietly.

“Well,” I began. “You’re tall and thin, so I sort of thought that you would be, I don’t know, boney or something. But you’re not. You’ve got a nice chest and stomach, you’ve absolutely got the longest legs I’ve ever seen, and there were other assets that I noticed…”

“Hmm, I seem to recall you telling me that I needed to eat more because you could count every rib in my body,” Brian said, quirking an eyebrow at me.

“That was just a self-defense mechanism,” I said. “I didn’t want you to know how much I was actually checking you out.”

“Well, I’ve got to tell you, I liked what I saw when you walked in on me too,” Brian said timidly. “I was very much enjoying watching you try to find your clothes from the bathroom door.”

“You know, I’m starting to think this quiet persona of yours is just an act, and that’s there’s really a very naughty boy lurking underneath it all,” I grinned.

“Don’t they say you have to watch out for the quiet ones?” Brian whispered, smoothing my hair back from my forehead with his fingers.

“Mm-hmm, something like that,” I breathed.

Brian’s gaze drifted to my lips, as he ran a finger across them. He looked at me with those intense hazel eyes of his, and I found myself aching for his touch. He bent his head over mine, brushing my lips with his, his fingers tangling in my hair. I sighed quietly as our lips parted for a deeper kiss. Our tongues darted into each other’s mouths, tasting and playing with each other, driving us both crazy with desire.

Brian shifted his body onto mine, our legs intertwining, my hands reaching for his soft curly hair, as our mouths continued to devour one another’s. The sensation of his warm body pressed against mine was making me crazy, and I found myself wishing that we were back at my place, in my bed, with no clothes to get in our way. The aching between my legs was becoming impossible to bear as I felt his hardness pressing against my thigh.

His lips left my mouth to kiss lower down my throat, making me moan with pleasure.

“Brian,” I sighed, reaching up to his ear to nibble on his earlobe.

“God, I want you so bad,” Brian breathed against my cheek. His eyes were closed and I could feel his breath coming out in ragged gasps. His hair was hanging down around his face, and he’d never looked sexier.

His mouth found mine again, as I reached up inside the back of his shirt, running my hands over the smooth muscles of his back. He pushed my legs apart with his knees and settled his hips between my thighs, pressing his hard cock against me, teasing me and making me want him all the more.

I kissed my way down his neck, taking in the scent of his cologne and the slightly salty taste of his skin as I went.

“Fuck,” he sighed, running his hand down the side of my body to grab my thigh.

“Where can we go to do this right Brian?” I asked breathlessly. “Is there a hotel or something around here you think?”

He looked at me suddenly with his dark bedroom eyes and whispered, “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” I said, my voice husky with desire.

“The thing is…” Brian began, pausing as he searched for the right words. “The thing is, I don’t want it to be something you’re going to do because you’re trying to forget Roger. I couldn’t handle it if it was nothing more than a one night stand.”

“It’s not, I swear,” I replied. “You mean much more to me than that.”

“If that’s the case, then let’s go… The car’s not very far,” Brian said, standing up quickly and reaching for my hand to pull me up as well.

We held hands as we walked along the worn dirt paths, giving each other sidelong glances as we went. Brian was clearly in a hurry because I practically had to jog to keep up with his long-legged stride. It only took us about ten minutes to get to his car, but it seemed like the longest ten minutes of my life.

I leaned against the side of his car, allowing my eyes to roam up and down his body as he fumbled with his keys, trying desperately to unlock the passenger side door. He caught sight of my penetrating gaze, and placed his hands on the car on either side of me, his mouth coming down hard over mine, kissing me with a hunger that couldn’t be satiated. I reached up to unbutton the top two buttons on his shirt, reaching my hands inside to feel his chest. Brian moaned softly as we kissed, his nipples getting hard as I ran my fingers across them.

“Fuck, we’ve got to find someplace quick,” he breathed, resting his forehead against mine.

“Then let’s go,” I said.

We got in the car and headed back toward the main road, where Brian thought he remembered seeing a bed & breakfast at some point. It only took us about 15 minutes to find the place, which was located not far from the pub that we’d stopped at earlier in the day to have lunch. Brian zipped his Mini into the small parking lot at the side of the establishment, and the two of us gathered our things and went inside. Nobody seemed to be around at first, and Brian bounced up and down on the balls of his feet impatiently, craning his neck to see where the proprietor was. 

Finally, an elderly lady wearing some sort of housedress and slippers came shuffling toward us slowly from a small hallway off to the side of the staircase.

“Good evening,” she smiled. “May I help you?”

“Um, yes, we’re having a bit of car trouble and were wondering if you had a room for the night?” Brian said convincingly.

“Are you two married?” the lady asked in a sweet voice, eyeing us a little suspiciously.

“Yes,” Brian said without hesitation, wrapping his arm around my shoulders.

“Very well,” the lady said, shuffling off in front of us toward the office that was visible through a doorway to our left. “Follow me and sign the registration book.”

Brian and I did as we were asked, following the little old lady at a snail’s pace into the office. She directed Brian to a large book sitting on a small wooden table, and I watched over Brian’s shoulder as he signed us in as Mr. and Mrs. Brian May, using his address in London for our contact information. The lady seemed to be satisfied and procured an old fashioned key from a hook up on the wall.

“This way,” she said.

She took us up the stairs and led us to the second door on the right, which she proceeded to unlock and open for our inspection.

“Will this do, dears?” she asked.

“Oh, this looks lovely, thank you,” Brian said sweetly.

“There’s an en-suite bathroom in this room so you won’t have to share with anyone,” the lady told us. “Check out time will be eleven o’clock tomorrow, and breakfast is served between seven and nine.”

“Sounds perfect,” Brian said with a painted on smile, obviously wishing that the lady would hurry up and leave us in peace.

“There’s a telephone downstairs too, if you need to call a mechanic,” she said.

“Excellent,” Brain nodded. “If the car won’t start in the morning, I may make use of that.”

“All right, well, enjoy your stay dears,” the lady said, walking out and closing the door behind her.

Brian turned the lock and we both set our cameras and things on a nearby table.

“Now, where were we?” he asked me, his voice sounding huskier than usual.

“I think we were somewhere around here…” I said, reaching up to slide my arms around his neck.

He wrapped his arms around my waist and the two of us kissed until we were left gasping for air. We shuffled slowly across the room our lips locked together the whole time, and fell in a heap onto the bed where we kissed even more. Brian shifted his body over mine positioning himself between my legs again, and I could feel his hardness already pushing against the fabric of my jeans. My body ached for him, and I was more than ready to start getting our clothes out of the way.

I reached between our bodies trying to find the rest of the buttons on his shirt. He lifted himself up slightly, and I tugged at every button until they were all unfastened, exposing his chest and stomach to my greedy hands and mouth. I reached up to kiss and suck on his hard nipples, trailing kisses across his chest as I went. Brian gasped and suddenly got off the bed in a hurry, pulling his shirt the rest of the way off before reaching for his pants. While he was undressing I was doing the same, yanking my sneakers and socks off of my feet, tugging my t-shirt up over my head, reaching around to my back to unclasp my bra, and unfastening my pants, pulling them along with my panties all the way off of my legs. Between the two of us, clothes were flying everywhere, ending up in a variety of places around the room.

Brian pulled the covers back on the bed, and the two of us snuggled together between the sheets, our bodies pressed together, warm skin touching warm skin. We started kissing again, moaning and whimpering into each other’s mouths as our need became too strong to ignore any longer. Brian moved between my legs, sliding himself easily into my warm wet body.

“Oh God…” I gasped. He was bigger than Roger, and I could feel every inch of him as he pushed his way deeper inside me. The sensation took my breath away.

Brian sighed, moving his hips slowly at first, savoring the feel of our bodies finally being joined together. Then he started moving faster, thrusting deeper inside me, making me cry out with pleasure. He felt so good inside me. It was like our bodies were just meant to be together.

I ran my hands over the taught muscles of Brian’s back, enjoying the way they rippled beneath my fingers, as he pumped harder and faster. I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him into me, matching every thrust of his hips with my own.

It didn’t take either of us long to reach our climax. We’d spent weeks secretly lusting after each other, and now that we were finally able to give in to our pent up desires, our bodies surrendered to each other, reaching a release that felt like it had been a very long time coming.

“Carrie,” Brian sighed, closing his eyes and coming deep inside me.

“Brian,” I whimpered, clutching at his back as my body shook with pleasure.

He collapsed on top of me then, trying to catch his breath, before rolling over onto his back beside me.

“Oh my God…” he gasped, running a hand through his thick curly hair. “Do you know how long I’ve been wanting to do that?”

“How long?” I smiled, rolling over on my side to snuggle up against him, brushing my fingers across his smooth hard chest.

“Since that very first night I saw you at Freddie’s,” he admitted. “I couldn’t take my eyes off of you with that skimpy little top you had on and your tight jeans. And then when I saw you backstage at the fashion show wearing that thin little scrap of fabric you had on… You have no idea what you’ve been doing to me for the past several weeks.”

“I’m sorry,” I said sincerely, looking up at his angelic face. “I never meant to cause you any kind of pain.”

“Being with you here tonight is worth any amount of pain that I’ve had to endure, believe me,” Brian smiled.

He rolled over onto his side so that we were facing each other, and he started kissing me again, letting his hand roam over my breasts, massaging and caressing them with his long slender fingers. He kissed his way down my neck until he reached my chest, taking each of my nipples in his mouth one at a time, sucking and teasing, and making my body ache for more. The two of us couldn’t get enough of each other that night, and as soon as he was ready, we were tangled up in each other’s arms making mad passionate love again.


	26. Chapter 26

Neither of us got much sleep that night at the bed & breakfast. We spent most of our time talking and periodically having sex. We finally nodded off sometime around three in the morning, and woke up again around seven, happy, tired and content, wrapped snugly in each other’s arms. I noticed as soon as I opened my eyes that Brian’s hair was it’s usual tangled mess, and I reached up to gently wipe a couple of stray strands out of his face as his eyes fluttered open and he smiled at me.

“Good morning Mr. May,” I said quietly.

“Good morning Mrs. May,” he replied.

I had been teasing Brian during the night over the way that he had signed us into the registry book as a married couple, and at some point, we started referring to each other as Mr. and Mrs. May. It was just a bit of silliness at first, but after a while the names seemed to stick. The entire night, and all that Brian and I had shared, had been blissfully perfect in every way, and I wished so much that it never had to end. I wished that we could just stay in that little room forever and never have to go back to the reality that awaited us in London.

“What time is it?” Brian asked, running a hand through his hair.

“A little after seven,” I replied with a sigh.

“Feel like going downstairs for breakfast?” Brian asked me, hugging me even tighter.

“I could go for breakfast,” I said. “I think we may want to wash up a bit first though.”

“Definitely,” Brian nodded in agreement, and then gave me a quick kiss on my forehead.

“Oh God, I just thought of something,” I said. “We don’t have any toothbrushes or toothpaste or shampoo with us.”

“Are you suggesting that I have morning breath?” Brian asked, pretending to be offended.

“No, I’m suggesting that I probably do,” I laughed.

“I think we’ll be fine,” Brian said reassuringly. “We didn’t exactly plan for this to happen, so we’ll just have to make do with whatever this place can provide.”

The two of us rolled reluctantly out of bed, rounded up our clothes from around the room and draped them over the back of a chair, then went into the bathroom to take a shower, only to discover that there was no shower, only a bathtub.

“This should be interesting,” Brian said, looking down at the old-fashioned claw-foot tub.

“Think we can both fit?” I teased.

“Sure, why not,” Brian smiled.

“Are you serious?” I laughed.

“It could be fun,” Brian shrugged, reaching down to turn the water on.

“You do know that you’re very tall, right?” I asked, watching his progress with amusement as he felt the water and adjusted the knobs, waiting for the temperature to be just right.

Without further ado, Brian shoved the plug into the drain, climbed into the tub, and then smiled at me and said, “Come on, get in.”

I started giggling and climbed apprehensively into the tub, facing Brian and placing my legs on either side of his.

“Well, it’s a little cramped, but it’s not as bad as I thought it would be,” I laughed. Other than the fact that the faucet was gouging me in the back that was.

Brian suddenly scooped up some of the bath water in his hands, and then dumped it unceremoniously on top of my head, laughing as my wet hair fell into my face.

I spluttered as the water trickled down into my mouth and said, “Very funny.” I quickly splashed him in retaliation, pelting his face and hair with water. The two of us sat there like kids, laughing and splashing each other as the tub filled up, making a huge mess all over the bathroom floor that I was sure the little old lady downstairs would not be pleased with.

“Okay, okay,” Brian finally said, waving his hands in surrender. “If we’re going to make it down in time for breakfast we’d better stop playing around and actually wash ourselves.”

“Fine,” I laughed, wiping the water out of my eyes.

Brian scooted toward me and then leaned back, dunking his head under the water, sending much of the bath water perilously close to slopping over the sides of the tub. I reached back and turned the water off, deciding that the tub was full enough. Brian popped back up out of the water and reached for the soap, washing pretty much everything but his hair. The soap seemed to have a mind of its own and flew out of his hands more than once, landing with a splash in the water. The first time it happened, we bumped our heads violently diving to grab the slippery little offender, the second time we just sat there laughing and looking at each other trying to determine who was going to reach down and get it.

Eventually it was my turn with the soap, and I too washed up quickly, avoiding my hair. Brian offered to wash my back, so I carefully turned around until my back was facing him. I couldn’t help but smile as he gently rubbed the soap across my back and used his hand to scoop up water and rinse it off. When the soap suddenly came flying up over my shoulder, splashing loudly in the water in front of me, I lost it completely and started laughing uncontrollably.

“I swear to God, that is the slipperiest soap I’ve ever seen!” Brian exclaimed.

He pulled me back toward him, and the two of us sat in the tub cuddling and laughing until the water started to become unbearably cold. We got out and grabbed the only two towels that the tiny bathroom had to offer, and wrapped them around ourselves, heading out to the chair where our clothes laid waiting.

It was 8:00 by the time we were dressed and ready to head downstairs. We went down to the breakfast room, hair still damp, and found another couple sitting at a small table eating their full English breakfasts of bacon, eggs, beans, tomatoes and toast. There were a few tables left unoccupied, so we sat down at one, waiting for someone to come in and acknowledge our existence.

After a couple minutes the little old lady came wandering in holding a pot of tea to freshen up the other patron’s cups.

“Oh, good morning Mr. and Mrs. May,” she trilled as soon as she saw us, and Brian and I smiled across the table at each other, keeping our laughter at bay with difficulty. She poured the tea for the other couple then shuffled over to us and asked, “What can I get for the two of you? Would you like a full breakfast?”

“I think just some tea and toast for me,” Brian replied, then looked at me and asked, “What about you?”

“That sounds good,” I agreed.

Brian and I held hands across the small table and chatted while we waited for our breakfast, grinning at each other like two kids on Christmas morning. We ate our toast and drank our tea once it arrived and then paid our bill for the room when we were finished. We went upstairs to gather up what few belongings we had with us, dropping off the key with the little old lady on our way out, who told us with sincerity that she hoped that we didn’t have any further car troubles on the way home. We took a few pictures of each other out in front of the bed & breakfast before we left, and then that was it. Our magical night was over, and it was time to head back to reality.

The hour-long drive into London went by way too fast as we laughed and talked and occasionally turned up the radio to listen to a song that we liked. We pulled up in front of the coffee shop on the ground floor of my building, gathered up our cameras and my purse, and got out of the car laughing about the fact that the countryside of Hampshire seemed to be teeming with strange little old women, when a sudden movement caught our attention.

Brian and I looked toward the glass door of the coffee shop, and were thunderstruck to find Freddie racing out through it, shouting at us as he went.

“Where the _hell_ have you two been??” Freddie demanded.

“I took Carrie for a drive yesterday to get her mind off things,” Brian explained.

“Oh my fucking God! You two had sex!” Freddie shouted, getting some strange looks from the people walking past us on the sidewalk.

“Freddie…” Brian started, but Freddie cut him off.

“Oh don’t bother denying it!” Freddie admonished with a wave of his hand. “It’s written all over your faces!”

“Can we, uh, finish this conversation up in my flat?” I asked quietly.

“Yes, excellent idea,” Brian agreed.

Without another word, Freddie yanked open the downstairs door leading up to my flat and marched up the stairs in a huff. Brian, being ever the gentleman, held the same door open for me and let me go in ahead of him.

I reached the second floor landing, and Freddie was pacing back and forth in front of my door like a caged cat. I pulled my keys out of my purse, unlocked the door, and let Freddie storm inside.

“I can’t _believe_ that you two have been shagging each other!” Freddie exploded as I struggled to get the front door of my flat shut quickly before one of my neighbors heard the ruckus. “I knew this was going to happen as soon as I left you two alone the other night! Roger was right, wasn’t he? How long has this been going on with you two?”

“Whatever may or may not be going on between Carrie and me is none of your business, Fred,” Brian said irritably, folding his arms across his chest in defiance.

“Except that it is my business when the future of my band is at stake!” Freddie railed.

“What are you talking about?” Brian asked with an incredulous look.

“I’m talking about you and Roger fighting with each other!” Freddie shouted. “What the hell do you think is going to happen to Queen if the drummer and the guitarist are no longer on speaking terms?!”

Freddie’s words hit me like a ton of bricks, and I quietly shuffled over to my couch where I sat down and immediately began mulling things over. I certainly hadn’t expected a homecoming quite like this. I knew that Brian and I were going face some difficulties once we’d left the safety of Hampshire behind, but I thought we’d have more time to figure things out and decide what happened next. Instead, we arrived home to find Hurricane Freddie waiting for us. 

What had I done? I thought solemnly, the gravity of my actions beginning to sink in. I knew that once Roger found out about what Brian and I had been doing in Hampshire that it would be hard for him to take, but I’d never for one minute thought that it could potentially break up the band.

“Do either of you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting for you in that bloody coffee shop downstairs?” Freddie went on. “When I wasn’t at Roger’s trying to nurse him back to health, I was sitting downstairs drinking cup after cup of revolting coffee, just waiting for the two of you to return! And this has been going on since yesterday!”

“Wait, what did you say about Roger?” I asked. “Why have you been having to nurse him back to health?”

“Oh, didn’t I mention?” Freddie drawled dramatically. “The boy has been in a drunken stupor since Friday night.”

“What?” I scowled. “Why?”

“Because he’s completely heartbroken over you, of course!” Freddie exclaimed.

“He’s the one who left me,” I reminded Freddie vehemently.

“I don’t care who left whom, darling, I’m telling you that I’ve been at his place since yesterday, and he won’t stop drinking, he won’t eat, he won’t bathe, and he hasn’t even changed his clothes since he left here on Friday night!” Freddie cried. “I stayed with him all last night, and he was lying in bed crying half the night.”

“Crying?” I gasped, my heart sinking into the pit of my stomach. “He was crying?”

“Pardon me for playing devil’s advocate,” Brian broke in, “but that hardly sounds like the Roger I know.”

“Why would I lie?” Freddie demanded. “I’m telling you, the boy is an absolute mess! I’m seriously worried about him!”

I exchanged a look with Brian, and he simply shook his head at me disbelievingly.

Freddie looked from Brian to me, and shouted out, “Why would I have waited for you all this time if I wasn’t honestly concerned for Roger’s welfare?!”

“Freddie, no offence,” Brian began, his expression softening as he walked across the room to sit next to me on the couch, “but, you’re prone to exaggeration at times, and the fact is, you’ve always been the champion of Roger and Carrie’s relationship. You were there when they first met, and you’ve always thought that they belonged together, I’ve heard you say as much.”

“And what if I have?” Freddie argued.

“Look, Freddie,” Brian began as patiently as possible, “I care about Carrie very much, you’ve known for weeks that I do, and I just don’t think that Roger has her best interests at heart.”

Brian reached for my hand then, squeezing it gently as he spoke. Freddie’s eyes narrowed at Brian’s reassuring gesture, and he flew into yet another angry rant.

“You know, you two are just unbelievable!” Freddie shouted, hands on his hips, as he glared at the two of us. “So you’re just a couple now, are you? And no one is going to give a fuck about poor Roger?”

“Poor Roger?” I echoed. “Freddie, you saw what happened between us the other night! You saw him storm out on me! You saw how distraught I was!”

“Not to mention the fact that he damn near ran you over with his car!” Brian interjected.

“I also saw the look on his face when he realized that you two were fooling around behind his back!” Freddie railed. He looked to Brian and said, “You’re his best friend! How could you do this to him?” Then he turned his attention to me. “And you! Your bed wasn’t even cold for fuck’s sake, and you immediately start screwing someone else!”

“Do _not_ talk to her like that Freddie!” Brian warned through clenched teeth.

“You know what? Fine!” Freddie said, waving his hands in surrender. “I don’t really give a damn how or when or why this happened between you two. All I care about now is fixing things.”

“Fixing things?” I asked.

“Yes,” Freddie stated flatly. “Whatever this is between you two has to end. Roger has no idea that you were together this weekend, and he doesn’t need to know.” Freddie looked pointedly at me then and continued on, “You’ve got to go to him and help him get past this.”

“Freddie, it’s not as simple as all that,” Brian said.

“It has to be as simple as all that,” Freddie argued. “The future of Queen is at stake, and I’m not willing to see this band fall apart, not when we’re about to finally get a recording deal.”

I pulled my hand reluctantly away from Brian’s and dropped my face into my hands, my elbows propped on my knees. I couldn’t be the reason that Queen broke up. I just couldn’t. I’d never be able to live with myself if I thought that I’d hurt their chances for success in any way.

“Freddie,” I said at last, “please wait for us downstairs in the coffee shop if you don’t mind. I need to talk to Brian.”

With nothing more than a dismissive wave, Freddie turned and walked out my front door, shutting it with a loud snap behind him.

“Look at me,” Brian said, reaching out to turn my face toward his. “I know what you’re thinking, and you’re not going to break up the band. Freddie is exaggerating, I know he is, and if Roger is a bit upset right now, he’ll get over it. He won’t allow this to break up the band, trust me. He wants success for Queen more than anybody.”

“But what if Freddie’s right?” I asked. “What if things _are_ as bad as he says they are? I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t at least go to Roger and make sure that he was okay.”

Brian sighed and looked down at the floor with a furrowed brow.

“You still love him, don’t you?” he asked me quietly.

“Brian, I don’t know what I’m feeling right now,” I said, feeling tears starting to burn in the back of my eyes. “I know that I just spent the most amazing night of my life with you, and that I never wanted it to end, but I’m not going to deny that I care very deeply for Roger, and that if something’s wrong with him…”

I paused, tears falling unbidden down my face as Brian looked up at me with pain and frustration filling his beautiful hazel eyes. He tried to put on a brave face for me, painting on a small smile as he reached up to swipe at a tear rolling down my cheek.

“I care about you very much,” he said at last, taking my hands in his. “This weekend would never have happened if I didn’t care about you. I hope you know that. But if it’s going to ease your mind to go over and check on Roger, then Freddie and I will go with you. Okay?”

“Okay,” I nodded, fresh tears forming in my eyes.

I’d never felt so torn in all my life. I was looking into the eyes of the sweetest, kindest, most gentle man I’d ever met, a man that I genuinely had deep feelings for. I knew that I was causing him pain, and I hated myself for it. Especially after I’d assured him in Hampshire that what we had shared could never be just a one-night-stand, that he meant far too much to me to ever let that happen. How could I possibly go back on such a promise? And yet, if Roger had been crying over me, and was truly as distraught as Freddie was describing him to be, I couldn’t just turn my back on him either, not after everything we’d shared over so many weeks.

We got up and gathered our things and walked downstairs to find Freddie sulking at one of the tables in the coffee shop, a fresh cup of coffee clutched in his hands. I told him that Brian was willing to drive us over to Roger’s, and he was beyond happy that the two of us were “able to see reason” as he put it. We piled into Brian’s Mini and set off in a wretched state toward Kensington.

“So what’s the story?” Freddie asked along the way. “We need to make sure that we’ve all got our stories straight before we see Roger.”

“Does he know that you’ve been hanging out in the coffee shop below my flat?” I asked.

“No,” Freddie answered. “All he knows is that I’ve been coming and going, and he thinks that I’ve been going back to my place whenever I leave.”

“Fine,” I said. “For right now, as far as everyone’s concerned, I’ve been at my flat all weekend, Brian’s been at his, and the most that’s ever happened between Brian and me is just a couple of kisses.”

“God, I still can’t believe you two screwed each other,” Freddie hissed from the backseat.

“Drop it Fred,” Brian warned.

“Where did the two of you go anyway?” Freddie asked, clearly unmoved by Brian’s warning.

“Hampshire,” Brian said simply.

“Hampshire?” Freddie questioned. “What the fuck is in Hampshire?”

“The less you know, the better,” Brian said with finality.

We got to Roger’s, and were forced to park down the street a bit due to the amount of cars out and about on a Sunday afternoon. We walked up the stairs to his front door and Freddie knocked, calling out, “It’s just me Rog.”

A very faint “come in” answered him.

We walked inside and the smell of cigarettes and alcohol about knocked me over. The place was a mess, with dirty glasses and empty bottles of booze littering every surface. The suitcase that Roger had dragged out of my flat lay open on his chair, the contents spilling out onto the floor. Crumpled up packs of Marlboro cigarettes and a couple of half eaten containers of take-out food were strewn around the room along with an ashtray brimming with cigarette butts. Roger himself was lying on his bed turned away from us, facing the wall. Freddie had been right, he was still wearing the same clothes he’d been wearing on Friday night.

“Roger, I brought you some company,” Freddie said cheerfully as he quietly closed the door.

“Freddie, I told you I don’t want to see…” Roger started to say, and then froze when he turned and saw Brian and me standing there.

I couldn’t believe how horrible he looked. His hair was a matted mess, he hadn’t shaved, and dark circles were forming under his eyes. My heart shattered into a million pieces at the sight of him.

“What are you two doing here?” he asked venomously as he sat up and swung his legs over the edge of his bed.

“Roger, look at you,” I said, tears falling from my eyes.

“What, never seen a heartbroken man before?” he asked caustically.

“You’re the one who left me,” I said, shaking my head.

“Yeah, and with good reason,” he bit back, “look who’s with you…”

Brian was standing right next to me, arms folded defiantly across his chest, as he and Roger stared daggers at one another.

“Why wouldn’t you let me explain the other night Roger?” I asked, wanting to go sit by him, but unsure whether or not I should.

“What is there to explain?” he asked.

“That there’s nothing going on between Brian and me,” I said. I could see the muscles in Brian’s jaw tighten as the words left my mouth, and it broke my heart to have to lie and cause him even more pain than I already had.

“Then explain why you two were kissing the way you were at the party,” Roger scowled.

“Roger, the truth is…” I began, completely unsure of how to begin.

“The truth is that I’ve kissed Carrie, twice, before we ever played that stupid game the other night,” Brian said through clenched teeth. “Both times she told me to stop, and reminded me that it was you that she loved, not me.”

“And when did these kisses happen?” Roger asked, cocking his head toward Brian.

“The night at Freddie’s when Carrie got into the fight with Kim, and the other night at the party right before we started playing the kissing game,” Brian answered soberly.

“I knew it! I knew you were lying to me when you said that you and Brian didn’t do anything in Freddie’s bedroom!” Roger shouted at me.

“It wasn’t in Freddie’s bedroom. It was in the stairwell of Freddie’s building when Brian went out to get your cigarettes,” I explained. “I could tell he’d been drinking, and I went after him to make sure he was okay, and we were talking a bit, and it just… happened. And I didn’t tell you because I knew that Brian was drunk and not thinking straight, and it would have only caused a fight between the two of you.”

“Well he wasn’t drunk at your place the other night, was he?” Roger asked. “Where did that kiss happen?”

“In my bedroom,” I answered, looking sheepishly at the floor.

“What the hell was he doing in your bedroom?” Roger demanded.

“It was me that followed her this time,” Brian said, shaking his hair irritably out of his face. “I knew that she was upset about that stupid kissing game that you and Freddie wanted to play so badly, and when she went into her room to get the blindfold, I followed her and asked if she was going to be okay.”

“And you just decided that while you were in there talking that you’d stick your tongue down her throat, yeah?” Roger asked contemptuously. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t get up and beat the living shit out of you right now.”

“Go ahead,” Brian said, spreading his arms out to his sides. “If it’ll make you feel better, go ahead.”

“I swear to fucking God, if you _ever_ touch her again…” Roger said, venom dripping from his voice as he pointed his finger at Brian.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about it, cause it won’t happen again,” Brian said decidedly, fists clenched at his sides. “If you three will excuse me, I think I’m going to head out now.”

My heart broke into a million pieces at the look of pain in Brian’s eyes. He stalked past me to the door, and I knew in my gut how much he must have hated me in that moment. I’d completely betrayed him. I promised him in Hampshire that what we had shared wouldn’t be just a fling, and yet there I was, back at Roger’s, lying about everything that had happened and reducing our beautiful night to nothing but baseless meaningless sex. I deserved to go straight to hell for the way I’d made him feel.

I looked at Freddie, my heart bleeding, and said, “I think I can take things from here if you want to go too.”

“You’re sure?” he asked me.

“Yeah, it’ll be fine,” I replied.

“Rog, I think I’m going to go then,” Freddie told his friend in the kind of sweet voice that was usually reserved for the sick and the elderly.

“Go,” Roger said dismissively with a wave of his hand. “You’ve been spending too much time here babysitting me the last couple of days anyway.”

Freddie told us both good-bye and quietly slipped out the door.

“Aren’t you going to leave me too?” Roger asked me in a snide tone.

“Nope,” I said, walking across the room to sit on his bed next to him. “For right now, it looks like you’re stuck with me.”


	27. Chapter 27

I spent the next hour systematically going through Roger’s flat and cleaning everything up. I opened the drapes above his bed and slid the window open, letting in some fresh air and sunlight. I picked up all the trash, and threw it into a giant trash bag, hauling it downstairs to the empty metal can behind his building. I picked up the contents of the disheveled suitcase and made two piles of clothes, those that were clean, and those that were dirty. The clean clothes I put away in his closet, the dirty clothes I put in his laundry hamper near the end of his bed. The other things like his spare toothbrush, his deodorant and cologne I took to the bathroom and put away. I latched up the suitcase and slid it into the bottom of his closet where I knew that he usually kept it. I walked over to his bedside table next and picked up the ashtray and dirty glasses, and took them all into his tiny kitchenette, where I dumped the cigarette butts in the trash and washed everything in the sink. All the while, Roger just remained lying on his bed, hands folded under his head, looking up at the ceiling and not saying a word.

“Okay,” I said, once the place was fit for human habitation again. “Now it’s time for you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he scowled at me.

“It means, that you’re going to get up, and shave, and take a shower, and brush your teeth, and we’re going to go out and get you something to eat,” I said, hands firmly planted on my hips.

“I don’t feel like going anywhere,” he grumbled, looking back up at the ceiling.

“I don’t recall giving you a choice,” I said firmly.

Roger just snorted and said, “I don’t really care.”

“Okay, have it your way,” I shrugged. If he wasn’t going to get up willingly, then I was just going to have to take him by force. I rubbed my hands together and quietly cracked my knuckles, preparing myself for the pain of having to physically drag him into the bathroom on my own. Thankfully Roger didn’t weight much more than I did, and his bathroom was relatively close to his bed.

I walked to the end of his bed, grasped his legs firmly around the ankles, and began to tug at him forcefully.

“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded, reaching out to grab the blankets on his bed in an attempt to keep me from pulling him any further.

“I told you, you’re going to get cleaned up,” I grunted, pulling at his legs even harder.

“What are you, my mum?” he shouted.

“Now there’s an idea!” I said, letting go of his legs. “I’ll go tell Freddie to call your mom. I know he’s got the number from when the two of you were living together. I bet she could come to London and straighten you out real quick.”

I grabbed my purse and headed toward the door, with Roger quickly jumping in front of me and blocking my path, asking, “Where are you going?”

“I told you,” I replied casually, “I’m going to Freddie’s and have him call your mom.”

“Nobody’s calling my mum,” Roger scowled at me with his arms folded across his chest.

“Then go in and get cleaned up and I won’t have to,” I said, scowling right back at him.

“Fine, but don’t think it’s because I’m afraid of my mum, cause I’m not,” Roger protested.

“Got it. Clearly you’re not afraid of your mom,” I nodded, letting him think that he’d won, as I set my purse back down and shoved him in the direction of the bathroom.

“I’m going, I’m going!” Roger exclaimed, pulling away from me so that he could walk to the bathroom on his own. I could hear him muttering under his breath the entire way, saying, “You’re starting to remind me of my mum. Bossy and mean and…”

“What’s that?” I smiled.

“Nothing,” he grumbled, trudging into the bathroom and closing the door with a decided snap.

Okay, I thought, dusting off my hands, what’s left? I looked at Roger’s bed and the sheets looked pretty disgusting. I found myself wondering if he had any other bedding anywhere in his flat. I remembered seeing a small closet over in the corner of his kitchenette, and sure enough when I opened it, I found towels, another set of sheets, and a clean blanket amongst other things. I pulled the sheets and blanket out of the closet along with a clean towel. The bedding I set down on his chair while I took the towel over to the bathroom. 

Roger was already completely naked, standing in front of the sink shaving when I opened the door. “Here,” I said, tossing him the towel, “I thought you might need this.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled, catching the towel midair and setting it on the sink.

I lingered a little too long in the bathroom doorway, my eyes drifting down toward Roger’s bare derriere of their own accord. I always had loved that cute little round ass of his.

“You can go now,” Roger said, quirking an eyebrow at me in the bathroom mirror.

“Fine,” I shrugged, making a face at him before turning to leave.

I shut the bathroom door and then turned my attention to Roger’s bed where I stripped off the sheets and blankets, wadding everything up in a ball, and shoved it as best I could into his hamper, which was now overflowing. Apparently doing laundry was going to be next on the to-do list. I unfolded the fitted sheet and crawled across his bed tucking it in around the corners, then pulled his mattress away from the wall slightly to drape the flat sheet over his bed next, and then the blanket, tucking everything in at the bottom corners just so. I grabbed up the pillowcase and tugged it over his pillow, and finally my job was done.

It occurred to me belatedly that I’d never had a chance to change my clothes or brush my hair or teeth after Brian and I had…Well, after we’d gotten back.

I slumped down onto Roger’s bed and began fishing around in my purse for my hairbrush and compact as my heart ached over the thought of Brian. How was it possible that we’d just been holding hands and laughing that very morning? Hampshire suddenly seemed like a lifetime away. I found myself wondering if he’d gone back to his flat and what he was doing at that very moment.

I brushed my hair and put on what little make up that my purse afforded, and then popped a piece of gum into my mouth, hoping that that would make up for my lack of oral hygiene that morning.

I checked my look in my compact mirror one last time, and decided that I looked about as good as I was going to get, as Roger came sauntering out of the bathroom with the towel I’d given him wrapped around his waist. He headed for his closet looking for something to wear as I snapped my compact shut and shoved it back into my purse. Roger pulled out the very outfit that he’d been wearing the first time we met, I noticed, his denim button-down shirt and his worn and patched bell-bottomed jeans. It had always been one of my favorites. He grabbed a pair of underwear out of the top drawer of his dresser, and turned toward the bed to get dressed. He paused as he laid his clothes out, and asked, “Did you change my sheets?”

“Yep,” I said. “Your other ones were looking, and smelling, pretty gross.”

“Oh. Thanks,” he mumbled.

I continued to sit on his bed and watch as he took the towel off and set it aside. I had to admit that there was a certain amount of comfort that I felt over the familiarity of being with Roger again, and yet, at the same time, it just wasn’t the same feeling that I had with Brian. Something had changed inside of me, and I could feel it. I still cared for Roger very deeply, but I wasn’t quite sure if the love that I felt for him was still the same love that I’d felt only a few days before. So much had happened in such a short period of time, and my emotions felt like a gigantic train wreck tangled up inside of me.

Roger buttoned up his shirt mid-way, like he usually did, rolled up his sleeves, and went into the bathroom to dry his hair. He came out a short time later looking more like the Rog that I was used to, sexy and adorable with that old familiar spark beginning to light up his big blue eyes once again.

“Okay, so where do you want to go? It’s my treat,” I said, standing up and reaching for my purse.

“Your treat?” he asked with an arched eyebrow. “Okay, Sweden sounds nice.”

“Ha, ha,” I said. “Within reason please. Besides, I hear Sweden’s very cold this time of year. Are there any movies out that you want to see?”

Roger thought for a second, then said, “That Stanley Kubrick movie that just came out, _A Clockwork Orange,_ looks pretty good.”

“Cool,” I said. “Let’s get something to eat first and then we’ll hit the theater. Anything sound good?”

“Steak and lobster?”

“Oh, we’re just full of jokes today, aren’t we?” I asked sarcastically.

We left his place and ended up at a Chinese food restaurant, where we each ordered a combo plate with pork chow mein, pork fried rice, spring rolls, shrimp and egg flower soup. We ate in silence, Roger’s head bent over his plate as he focused on his food. I watched as he devoured everything on his own plate, and then reached across the table to dip into the food on mine as soon as his was gone. I didn’t mind though. As usual I’d ordered way too much, and it did my heart good to see him eating and looking better.

“I need to ask you a couple of things,” he said at last, the usual crease forming between his brows that always showed up when something was bothering him.

“Okay,” I said, putting my fork down before I could shovel a large bite of rice into my mouth.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Brian kissing you?” he asked, looking at me with anger and resentment in his eyes.

“What would you have done had I told you?” I asked him.

“I would have beaten the shit out of Brian,” Roger said.

“That’s why,” I said. “I didn’t want to be the cause of you and your best friend getting into a fight.”

“Is it true what Brian said? That you made him stop and told him that you loved me?” Roger asked.

“Every word,” I replied, feeling completely guilt ridden as I said it. It was the truth, more or less. I had told Brian to stop both times that he kissed me. But it was mostly out of feelings of guilt, not because I’d actually wanted him to stop.

Roger looked down contemplating my food, playing with a piece of barbequed pork with his fork. “If he ever touches you again, you’re going to tell me straight away though, right?” he said at last.

“I don’t think it’s ever going to happen again,” I said solemnly, feeling sick in the pit of my stomach as the words left my mouth. The thought of never being touched by Brian again made a piece of my heart curl up inside and die.

“But if he does, you’re going to tell me, right?”

“If he does, I promise I’ll tell you.”

Good God, I thought, if he only knew the things that had been happening the night before… 

Roger got very quiet again, as he propped his elbow on the table and leaned his head against his hand, still playing with the food on my plate. “Are you going to eat that other spring roll?” he asked me at last.

“No, you can have it,” I smiled.

“I missed you yesterday you know,” Roger said quietly.

“I missed you too,” I said, tears welling up in my eyes over the mix of emotions coursing through my body. I actually had missed him. I’d gone to bed Friday night missing him, and woke up Saturday morning missing him, and then Hampshire happened, and Brian…

I had to stop thinking about Brian. I had to stop thinking about the hurt look on his face as he left Roger’s flat.

“Don’t cry,” Roger said gently, reaching for my hands. “I hate it when you cry.”

“They’re happy tears,” I said, trying to put on a brave face. “Happy that we’re back together.”

“Me too,” Roger grinned. “I don’t ever want anything to come between us ever again. I love you. I’ve never felt about anyone the way that I feel about you.”

“I feel the same way,” I smiled weakly.

After lunch we went to the movies and things started to return back to normal a little at a time. I’d been waiting on pins and needles for Roger to ask the one question I’d been dreading, and he did so while I was paying for our movie tickets.

“So, what did you do all day yesterday?” he asked me.

My head felt like it was going to explode with all the lies I was about to tell.

“Nothing,” I said, shaking my head. “Just sat around my flat eating too much like I always do when I’m depressed.”

“Were you really that lonely without me?” Roger asked with a crooked smile.

“I really was,” I smiled back.

I was the world’s worst liar, and I couldn’t believe that Roger wasn’t able to see right through me.

The lady in the ticket booth handed me our tickets, and Roger reached for my hand as we walked into the theater. I had to admit it did feel good to touch him again. He felt warm and familiar, his scent filling my nostrils as I leaned my head against his arm. I’d almost forgotten how wonderful the smell of cigarettes mixed with cologne could truly be.

We found a couple of seats at the back of the relatively empty theater and sat down. The movie wasn’t scheduled to start for another 15 minutes, so we had a bit of time to talk and reconnect. Roger put his arm around me and looked at me with those big beautiful blue eyes of his, and I started to melt a little inside. We started kissing, softly at first, but before long I was pretty much sitting in his lap, our arms wrapped around each other, tongues in each other’s mouths, trying to rekindle our lost passion. It wasn’t until someone shouted at us to get a room that we realized we were causing a disturbance. We broke apart and looked around the theater, which was suddenly much fuller than it had been when we first showed up, and half of the audience had their eyes glued to us. I turned a very deep shade of pink, and quietly scooted back over onto my seat while Roger just laughed and waved at the people staring at us before putting his arm back around me.

_A Clockwork Orange_ finally started, and I was shocked by how bizarre and full of violence the movie was. Roger loved every minute of it and watched rapturously, particularly during the rape scenes, which was when I suddenly found his hand running up the inside of my thigh. The scenes where Malcolm McDowell’s eyes were being held open by metal prongs were the worst, and I found myself having to clamp my eyes shut and lean my head against Roger’s shoulder until that particular part was over. By the end of the film, Roger was calling the other members of Queen his “droogs” and asking me if I felt like going back to my place for a bit of the old “in-out”. Part of me wanted to say no, but the other part of me, the one that was gazing into those baby blue eyes of his, still wanted him. Roger’s charms were definitely having their desired effect on me.

We drove to my flat and barely made it inside the door before we were kissing again. I couldn’t help but feel the old spark for Roger starting to fan back into a flame, as our bodies were pressed together, our mouths devouring one another’s with desire and passion. Roger pinned me playfully against the back of my front door, and breathed in my ear, “Did those rape scenes in the movie turn you on as much as they did me? What if I were to do the same to you?”

“I wouldn’t let you,” I grinned, knowing that this was nothing more than a little sex game on Roger’s part. “I could get away from you anytime I wanted.”

“Oh yeah?” Roger asked, reaching for my hands and pinning them above my head. “Let’s see you get away then.”

I whimpered as Roger brought his mouth down over mine with force. The deep recesses between my legs were already throbbing, yearning to feel him inside me. I decided to play the game though and fought to push him away from me, but Roger was stronger, and held me firmly in place against the door.

“See, I knew you couldn’t get away,” Roger simpered, inadvertently relaxing his grip on me. I was able to finally break free, and shoved at him before attempting to move away from the door.

I almost made it, but Roger grabbed me around the waist, and said, “Oh no you don’t.” 

The man had the reflexes of a cat.

He picked me up and threw me over his shoulder, hauling me off into my bedroom kicking and screaming, taking my shoes off and flinging them to the floor as he went. He tossed me on the bed, and immediately smothered me with his body before I could get away.

He pinned my hands above my head with one hand and ran his free hand up inside my shirt, whispering gruffly into my ear, “I’m going to fuck you, and you’re going to like it.”

Oh, I liked it already. I liked it a lot in fact. But I continued to play along and said, “No you’re not, I’m not going to let you.”

“What are you going to do if I rip your clothes off of you?” Roger asked.

He wouldn’t dare, I thought.

He would dare. He somehow managed to find a small hole at the bottom of my Stanford shirt that I didn’t even know existed, wedged his finger inside of it and tugged, causing a huge tear to form across the front of my shirt. He let go of my hands, sat on top of me, straddling my legs, and grabbed at the tear with both hands and ripped my shirt completely open. I happened to be wearing a front-clasp bra underneath which he had undone in half a second with one simple flick of his finger.

“That’s more like it,” he growled, pinning my hands above my head again. He kissed his way down my throat to my chest, taking each of my breasts into his mouth one at a time, driving me crazy with desire. He held my hands with one hand as he reached down and undid the buttons on my pants in one swift movement with the other, reaching his inside my panties to feel how wet I was getting. He plunged his middle finger deep inside me, making me gasp at his touch.

“Oh fuck yeah. I knew you wanted it baby,” Roger muttered before taking one my nipples in his mouth.

“No I don’t,” I managed to choke out, still playing the victim, and wiggled my way free from his grasp. I rolled over in an attempt to get away, and Roger pounced on my back, making me even more helpless than before. He tugged at my pants and panties until he had them all the way off.

“Someone’s not being very cooperative,” Roger scolded. “I think maybe I need to teach you a lesson.”

He smacked me lightly across the ass a couple of times, practically sending my body into convulsions. Was it possible to come just by being spanked?

“Are you going to be a good girl now?” Roger breathed in my ear.

“Mm-hmm,” I sighed.

“Good,” he said, and then got off of me so that he could take his own clothes off. He tore at the buttons on his shirt, sending one flying across the room, and had his shoes, pants and underwear off in a matter of seconds. 

I, meanwhile, had found my opportunity of escape while he was getting undressed and took it, rolling across the bed to the other side, getting up, and making my way across the room toward the door. Again, Roger was too fast for me. He grabbed me around the waist and dragged me back over to the bed.

“Since you want to be such a bad girl, you get to act like a bad girl now,” Roger smirked. “Down on your knees.”

This forceful side of Roger was turning me on to the point where my knees were starting to shake. I was so wet that it was almost becoming uncomfortable to move. I did as I was told and got down on my knees in front of him and then acted as though I was going to refuse to take him into my mouth.

“Come on baby, open up,” Roger crooned. I couldn’t take it anymore, and wrapped my lips around his cock, making him gasp with pleasure. “That’s a good girl,” he sighed, wrapping his hands around my head and pushing his cock even deeper into my mouth.

I moaned as I took every inch of him in, sucking and tasting, and loving every minute of it. Roger rocked his hips back and forth, going deeper with every thrust, until I almost couldn’t catch my breath.

“Oh fuck…” Roger moaned, throwing his head back. “I’ve got to have you.”

He lifted me up under my arms, picked me up and tossed me on the bed. He dove for the space between my legs with his mouth, teasing and licking me until I cried out, arching my back with pleasure.

He wasted no time moving on top of me, positioning his hips between my thighs, and thrusting his hard cock inside me.

“Oh God, yes…” I gasped, digging my fingernails into Roger’s back. We both moaned and cried as he pounded his hips into me, driving fast and hard with desire. He shifted his weight onto his knees, lifting my legs up in the air, and continued grinding into me until the entire bed shook with the motion.

I reached for his thighs, feeling his muscles move underneath my fingers with every thrust. I opened my eyes to look at him, and saw that his brow was furrowed, he was biting his bottom lip, and his long blonde hair was sweaty and plastered to his face. I still found him so sexy - there was no denying it.

He shook his hair out of his face, and laid back on top of me, still driving hard, our hot, sweaty bodies writhing together as one. He bent his head over mine, and I whimpered as our mouths consumed each other’s in a fiery kiss. My release was coming fast and hard, and I knew that his was too.

“Roger!” I cried, holding on to him for dear life as my entire body shook with pleasure.

“Oh fuck,” Roger breathed, pushing hard into me one last time before coming deep inside of me.

We laid there for a minute, gasping for air, Roger still propped up on his arms over the top of me, when the phone in my living room rang.

I moved to get up, and Roger pressed me back onto the bed, saying, “No, don’t get it. Just let it ring.”

“What if it’s important?” I asked.

“Ugh, fine. I need something to drink anyway,” he conceded.

I walked in to pick up the phone, followed closely by Roger, who walked past me into the kitchen to grab a glass out of the cupboard.

“Hello?” I said, picking up the receiver.

“Hi, Carrie,” Freddie said. “Where’s Roger? I’ve been trying to call his flat and there’s no answer.”

“He’s right here,” I said. “Do you want to talk to him?”

Roger had gulped down a quick glass of water and sauntered back out into the living room to stand behind me, wrapping his arms tightly around my waist.

“Is everything okay?” Freddie asked.

“Everything’s fine,” I reassured him. “Here, talk to him.”

I thrust the phone at Roger, and he looked at me quizzically and asked, “Who is it?”

“It’s Freddie,” I answered as I walked off to the kitchen to get some water for myself.

“What do you want you miserable old sod?” Roger said jokingly into the phone. “Well, clearly I’m not at my flat, am I? I was in Carrie’s bedroom fucking her when you called if you must know.”

I spit the water in my mouth all over the kitchen counter. “Roger!” I yelled out from the kitchen.

“What? It’s the truth,” Roger called back in an innocent voice.

Well, some things never change, I thought to myself. Still the same old Roger.

“No, everything’s fine,” Roger said into the phone as I wandered back into the living room. He chuckled as our eyes made contact and told Freddie, “Yep, back to fucking like rabbits.”

I could see the expression on Roger’s face darken then, as he said, “No, I don’t want to see Brian. Good, it’s probably best if he does go on holiday with his parents. Yeah, I know we’ve been best friends for four years. Look, don’t worry about it. We’ll sort it out eventually. For fuck’s sake, Fred, the band’s not going to break up! Will you stop worrying please? Nah, I think I’m just going to hang out with Carrie tonight. Yeah, all right. Talk to you later then.”

“What was all that about?” I asked.

“Just Freddie checking up on me, and telling me that I need to patch things up with Brian,” Roger said, setting the phone down.

“What did he say about Brian going on holiday?” I asked, trying not to sound too interested.

“He said he talked to Brian on the phone and he’s supposed to be leaving with his parents tomorrow to go on a short holiday,” Roger shrugged. “I think Freddie was hoping we could all get together at the Kensington tonight and work things out before he left.”

“Ah. I guess it’s too soon, huh?” I asked, the thought of Brian suddenly leaving with his parents grabbing at my heart. This was all because of me, there was no doubt in my mind, and the amount of guilt that I felt was unbearable.

“Much too soon,” Roger replied adamantly, and then wrapped his arms around me again, pulling me toward him in a warm embrace. “Now, what were we doing again before we were so rudely interrupted by Freddie?”


	28. Chapter 28

I tossed and turned all night that night. My dreams were filled with Brian and bathtubs and bed & breakfasts, and would then turn into visions of Roger lying in his bed crying, telling Freddie how much he hated me. And no matter how many times I woke up trying to dispel the thoughts from my head, they came right back every time I closed my eyes again. I ended up lying there half the night just watching Roger sleep. He always looked so cute when he slept with his hair in disarray and his pouty mouth open, breathing deeply. But no matter how hard I tried to fight it, thoughts of Brian kept creeping into my head. I couldn’t stand the fact that I’d hurt him, and I knew that his sudden decision to go on holiday with his parents was nothing but an attempt to get away from me.

I finally rolled out of bed a little earlier than usual to get ready for school. On top of all of my boyfriend issues I also had to worry about staying caught up with my courses. I’d missed three days worth of classes the week before with my birthday trip to Brighton, and I prayed to God that I hadn’t fallen too far behind.

I felt the need to clear my head, and told Roger that I’d just walk to school that morning. He was still half asleep at the time, and just nodded and smiled, blowing me a drowsy air kiss before rolling onto his stomach and falling back asleep.

When I showed up for my first class, Annie cornered me and asked how I was doing and where I had been all day Saturday since she’d tried to call me several times.

“I’m fine,” I told her, trying to smile. “Roger and I made up, and everything’s back to normal.”

“Oh, well that’s great!” Annie said. “But where were you on Saturday?”

How did I know that she wasn’t going to let that go?

“I, um, I was just out,” I said, looking sheepishly at the floor.

“Carrie,” Annie sang. “I know you too well. What are you keeping from me?”

“I really can’t talk about it,” I said, shaking my head.

“Why? What’s wrong?” Annie persisted.

Thankfully our professor walked in at that moment, and we were forced to take our seats.

We were in the middle of discussing the effects that photography had had on 19th century art that particular morning, when our instructor suddenly paused mid-way through a sentence, looked pointedly at the classroom door, and said, “Can I help you?”

Every head in the room snapped to attention and whirled around, including mine, and to my great shock, there was Brian standing just inside the doorway.

“I’m, uh, I’m very sorry to interrupt,” Brian spluttered, “but I need to borrow Miss Martin if possible.”

“Miss Martin, you know this young man I assume?” my professor asked.

“Yes, sir, I do,” I replied.

“Well then, don’t leave him standing about all day,” he said irritably, making shooing motions at me with his hands.

I quickly got up from my seat with every eye in the room staring a hole through me, wondering how the hell was I going to explain this if the subject came up. Everyone that knew me in my class knew that I was with Roger. This meant that I was going to have to come up with even more lies. Soon I wouldn’t be able to keep track of them all.

I ushered Brian out of the classroom, asking “Is everything okay?”

“I’m so sorry to interrupt your class like this,” Brian apologized. “But I had to see you and talk to you, and I couldn’t think of any other way. Is there anyplace we can go for a few minutes?”

“Um, yeah, sure,” I said, my heart filling with happiness at the sight of him. I couldn’t quite get a handle right away on how he was doing, but at least he looked okay, and he was talking to me, so I hoped that meant that he didn’t completely hate me over everything I’d done to him.

There was a quiet little courtyard at King’s College, just outside on the ground floor, so I led Brian toward the stairs in that direction.

“How on earth did you even know where I was at?” I asked him as we descended the staircase.

“I stopped by the administration office, told them I was your brother and said I needed to see you right away because of a family emergency,” Brian grinned.

“You know, you’re far more conniving than I would have ever given you credit for,” I said, shaking my head in amazement.

Brian just laughed quietly as we walked on. It touched my heart to hear him laugh.

Within a few minutes we were out in the courtyard sitting on a wooden bench in a secluded corner. What had started out as a relatively sunny day had now turned grey and gloomy, with dark clouds scattered across the sky threatening rain.

“So what’s going on?” I asked. “What made you come over and find me?”

“I just had to see you,” Brian said, our bodies turned slightly toward one another’s, Brian’s arm resting casually on the back of the bench. “After the way we left things yesterday… I just had to know that you were okay. I haven’t been able to get you off of my mind.”

My heart felt like it might burst.

“I’ve been thinking about you too, feeling like you must hate me,” I said, turning away to look out across the courtyard as I held back the tears that threatened in the back of my eyes.

“Hate you?” Brian questioned, leaning forward slightly so that I’d turn my attention back to him again. “I could never hate you.”

“So you’re happy to see me?” I asked.

“I’m _always_ happy to see you,” Brian smiled, reaching out to touch my arm.

I breathed a huge sigh of relief. It felt like the weight of the world had just been lifted off of my chest.

“After the way we left things, I wasn’t sure,” I said.

“Look, I know that you were in a tough spot yesterday,” Brian sympathized. “Freddie was filling your head full of shit, and if I’m being honest with myself, I knew that you couldn’t just turn off your feelings for Roger like a tap. In hindsight, maybe the trip to Hampshire was a bad idea…”

“No, it wasn’t,” I interjected, looking into those soulful hazel eyes of his. “I meant everything that I said to you in Hampshire, you know. You mean more to me than just a one night stand, and I never thought in a million years that we’d come home to find Freddie freaking out over things. I thought we’d have time to figure things out.”

Brian looked at the ground and nodded his agreement. After a moment, he looked back into my eyes and said, “I almost hate to ask this, but how did things go yesterday between you and Roger?”

“We’re back together,” I shrugged.

“Mm,” Brian nodded. “You don’t sound very sure of things.”

“I don’t know how to feel right now,” I answered.

“Look, obviously, I can’t tell you what to do, or how to feel,” Brian began, “but I do worry about you. I’ve been worried about you ever since I got to know you.”

“Why?” I asked.

Brian started to speak, and then stopped himself, choosing his words carefully.

“You know Roger and I are best mates,” Brian said slowly. “And I wouldn’t want to say anything against him, but there are things that he does and choices that he makes that I don’t always agree with.”

“This is starting to sound a bit like the warning to were trying to give me the night in Freddie’s stairwell,” I said.

“The thing is, you’ve only known Roger for a couple of months now. You don’t know his history. I’ve seen girls come and go in his life, and normally I don’t really care much. Its just Rog being Rog, you know? But it’s different with you. I know you’re going to think that I’m saying all this just because I like you… which I do, quite a lot, as you know… but I worry about you getting hurt. I waver constantly about how much I should tell you, and how much I need to just let you figure out on your own.”

“I know I’ll probably wish this unasked as soon as I say it, but how many girls have there been in Roger’s life exactly?” I asked hesitantly. “Or do I even want to know?”

“I take it Roger hasn’t answered this for you himself?” Brian replied.

“All he’s told me is that he’s had his fair share of girlfriends, but that he’s not, and I quote, ‘some prat womanizer’.”

Brian practically barked with laughter. “That’s what he’s told you, has he? Well, let’s put it this way, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Roger stay with a girlfriend for more than a few months, and even at that, half the time he’s flirting with other girls or flat out cheating on whomever he’s with at the time.”

I trusted Brian, and knew that he would have no reason to lie to me, and the picture he was painting of Roger’s behavior was exactly what I’d always feared.

“Look, I shouldn’t be telling you this,” Brian said, shaking his head. “I really didn’t come here to talk about Roger. I just wanted to make sure, more than anything, that you were okay, and to tell you that I’m going to be out of town for a few days with my parents.”

“I heard,” I said, looking at Brian with a small grin. “I thought you were trying to get away from me.”

“I would never want to get away from you,” Brian said, “but out of curiosity, how did you hear that I was leaving?”

“Freddie told Roger,” I confessed.

“Ah, news does travel fast in our little circle, doesn’t it?” Brian scoffed. “The truth is, that I thought it might be best for me to get away for a few days and clear my head. My parents have had this trip planned for a while, and they asked me weeks ago if I wanted to go. Initially I said no, but I thought about it all day yesterday, and decided that it might give both you and I some time apart to think things over.”

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“Wales,” Brian replied. “It’s only a short holiday though, we’ll be back by Friday.”

He reached into his jacket then, pulling a thick white envelope out of the inside pocket.

“Here, this is for you,” he said, holding it out to me.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Something for you to think about while I’m gone with my parents,” Brian said. “Don’t open it just yet, though. Wait until I’m gone and you’ve got a moment alone.”

“Okay,” I smiled, my curiosity thoroughly piqued.

“It’s nothing terribly valuable,” Brian went on. “But I hope it will mean something to you.”

“I’m really going to miss you while you’re gone,” I said, my heart suddenly feeling very heavy over the thought of him being so far away, even for just a few days.

“I’d send you a postcard, but I don’t know if Roger sees your mail these days or not.”

“Mm, not usually. And I can keep it from him at any rate,” I said.

“Well then, I’ll send you a postcard as soon as I get there,” Brian smiled.

“I look forward to it,” I smiled back.

“Think about me while I’m gone,” Brian said, reaching for my hand, “because I won’t be able to stop thinking about you.”

He leaned into me then for a few warm, tender kisses, and I nearly begged him not to go to Wales. He pressed his forehead against mine and my heart ached for him. I think I knew, right in that moment, that I didn’t just care for Brian, but that I was in love with him, heart and soul.

“I’d better let you get back to class,” he whispered, our heads still touching, “and my mum and dad are probably waiting on me.”

“Before you go,” I said, breathing in his scent one last time before he left. “Can I ask you a weird question?”

Brian pulled away slightly and looked at me with an amused expression, saying, “Okay.”

“What kind of shampoo do you use?” I asked.

“I suppose you want your hair to be as silky and shiny as mine?” Brian asked sarcastically.

I laughed and said, “No, I just want it smell like yours.”

“Mm, well in that case, I use Silvikrin, the one with almond oil,” Brian said.

“Finally!” I sighed. “I’ve been dying to know what kind of shampoo you use ever since I woke up on your pillow the morning after we played pool.”

“You like it that much?” Brian grinned.

“Mm-hmm,” I replied with a nod.

I leaned in to kiss him again, breathing in the scent of his hair one last time so that I could remember it while he was gone.

“God I hate to leave you,” Brian whispered, leaning his forehead against mine once more.

“Please be careful on your trip, okay?” I said, my heart aching over the fact that I wouldn’t be able to see him or touch him or talk to him for four whole days. “Hopefully we’ll see each other as soon as you get back.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Brian smiled. “Let’s get you back to class.”

The two of us trudged slowly back into the building and up to the second floor, where I arrived just in time for the last ten minutes of class. Brian waved goodbye, and I watched him walk off down the corridor, the white envelope he gave me still clutched tightly in my hand.

I re-entered my classroom with every eye turning to stare at me.

“Ah, Miss Martin. I’m so glad you could join us for the last few minutes of class,” my professor sneered.

I turned slightly pink and sat back down in my seat, scribbling our homework assignment down frantically off of the chalkboard.

As soon as class was over, Annie, who was sitting in the seat across the aisle from me, grabbed me by the arm, and hissed “What the hell was all that about? What was Brian doing here?”

“I, um…” I hadn’t had time to think up an excuse, and sadly nothing was coming to me. “I don’t know if I can talk about it Annie.”

I started putting all my things in my book bag, and paused when I got to the white envelope Brian had given me.

“What’s in the envelope?” Annie asked.

“I don’t know,” I said sheepishly. “Brian gave it to me.”

“All right, that’s it! You and I are going to talk, and you’re going to tell me everything whether you like it or not!” Annie exclaimed. She stood up and grabbed my arm, barely giving me time to sling my book bag over my shoulder, as she dragged me out of the classroom and down the stairs, right back out to the very courtyard where Brian and I had been minutes before.

We sat down on the bench opposite from the one Brian and I had been sitting on, as I protested, “Annie, we have another class in ten minutes!”

“Well, we’re going to be late,” Annie said with finality. “Now, it’s obvious to me, and to everyone that was at your party, that there’s something going on between you and Brian, so tell me everything!”

“Obvious?” I asked innocently. “No, I don’t… I mean there’s nothing…”

“Sweetheart, please!” Annie exclaimed, giving me a withering look. “After the way you two were kissing at your party??”

“Well, we were all kissing at the party,” I argued feebly. “It was just part of the game.”

“Not the way that the two of you were,” Annie laughed. “The rest of us were just kissing for fun, you two meant it.”

“It was that obvious?” I sighed.

Annie nodded her head vigorously at me. “So, you see, you’ve got no reason to keep secrets from me, cause I’ve already got things half figured out. What I don’t know is, when and how this whole thing with you and Brian began.”

“The truth is, I’m not even completely sure myself,” I admitted. “But you have to promise me that everything I’m about to tell you stays between us.”

“Cross my heart,” Annie said, making a crisscross motion over her chest.

I ended up spilling my guts to her, which I had to admit, felt rather cathartic. I told her about the stolen kisses with Brian at both Freddie’s place and mine and how Roger, much like everyone else it seemed, thought there was something going on between Brian and me because of the kissing game at the party. Annie had known that Brian had spent the night at my place after the party, but she hadn’t known that we had fallen asleep together in each other’s arms on my couch. I told her how we’d driven into Hampshire the following day to see Jane Austen’s house then ended up making out in a field while star gazing, and eventually ended up in the same bed that night at a bed & breakfast. I explained how we’d come home to find Roger heartbroken and drunk and half ill, and how Roger and I had gotten back together. And lastly, I held out the envelope that Brian had given me and told Annie how he’d made a special trip to our school just to give it to me before going on holiday with his parents.

“My God,” Annie breathed. “Your life is like a bloody soap opera!”

She wasn’t wrong.

She nodded toward the envelope that Brian had given me then, and said, “Well open the damn thing already! I want to know what’s in it too!”

I took a deep breath and slowly peeled open the seal on the back of the envelope. Inside were three things, a stack of pictures tied together with a ribbon, a letter, and another sheet of paper with writing down the left side that almost looked like a poem, or perhaps a song.

“Read the letter,” Annie urged.

“What if it’s personal?” I asked.

“Oh my God! You know I have to know what it says or I’ll go mad!” Annie exclaimed.

“All right, all right,” I said. I unfolded the page and read:

_Dear Mrs. May,_

_It’s two o ‘clock, Monday morning, and I can’t sleep because I’ve been thinking about you all night. I love you. I think I’ve been in love with you since the first night I met you. You’re the last thing I think about before I go to sleep and the first thing I think about every morning. I didn’t think it was possible to feel about someone the way that I feel about you._

_Please find copies of the pictures that I took on our trip in with this letter, along with a song that I wrote for you called ‘Some Day One Day’. I’d love to play it for you when I come back. Until then, please think of me the way that I’ll be thinking of you the whole time that I’m in Wales. I love you. I can’t say it enough. I love you._

_Until Friday, I will remain your,  
Mr. May_

By the time I finished reading the letter, Annie and I were both in tears.

“Oh my God…” Annie breathed. “It’s just like Frederick Wentworth’s letter to Anne Elliot in _Persuasion!_ ”

“You’re right,” I laughed. “It is!”

“Bloody hell. If you don’t take him, I will!” Annie said, wiping at a stray tear rolling down her face.

I unfolded the sheet of paper that contained the song and read the lyrics out loud. It was the most incredible thing I’d ever seen, and I understood the meaning behind each and every word. It opened with the lines - _You never heard my song before the music was too loud, but now I think you hear me well for now we both know how…_ The music was Roger, and I hadn’t been able to see how Brian really felt for me because my feelings for Roger made me deaf and blind to what was right before me. But after our time in Hampshire, everything was clear. The song went on – _No star can light our way in this cloud of dark and fear, but some day, one day…_ A reference to our star gazing, no doubt, and the fact that nothing could light our way while the cloud of my relationship with Roger still hung over us. But some day, one day… I couldn’t believe that someone could write something so beautiful, the rest of the lines being just as poignant as the first, and I was dying to hear him sing it to me.

“Carrie, what are you going to do?” Annie sighed. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man so much in love.”

“I know,” I whispered, wiping at my eyes with the back of my hand. I folded up both sheets of paper, and slid them carefully back into the envelope. I reached for the photos and untied the ribbon that Brian had wrapped around the stack as if it were a Christmas present just waiting to be opened.

I shared the photos with Annie, and she “oohed” and “aahed” over all the Jane Austen related stuff just the way I had. We laughed over the pictures of me posing next to the water pump and lime tree on the old Steventon rectory property, and sighed over the photo of Brian and me standing out in front of St. Nicholas’ church. Seeing the two of us together, arms wrapped around each other, looking so happy, brought another round of tears to my eyes.

“It’s sort of ridiculous how adorable the two of you are together, I’ve got to say,” Annie grinned.

“Oh my God, Annie. What am I going to do?” I asked.

“You have to go for him,” Annie said simply. “I will literally smack you in the head if you don’t.”

“But Roger…” I said.

“Look, I know Roger is gorgeous and all,” Annie began. “But has he ever written you a letter like this? Or written you a song? Or taken you to see Jane Austen’s house just because he knew it would make you happy? Think about it!”

When she put it like that, it seemed so simple.

“I know, but there’s more to it than that with Roger,” I said, looking down at the contents of Brian’s envelope lying in my lap. “I feel like… like he needs me somehow. You should have seen the state of him after Brian and I came back from Hampshire, Annie. I’ve never seen anyone so distraught.”

“Look, I get it,” Annie said. “He’s handsome and charming and he sweeps you off your feet, but do you think his feelings for you are as deep as Brian’s are? I’ve got to say, I’ve learned a few things about Roger lately, and I’m a bit worried for you.”

“You sound like Brian,” I told her. “And what do you mean you’ve learned some things?”

“Do you remember when I told you that I have some friends at Imperial College that know the members of Queen?” Annie asked.

“I think so,” I said.

“Well, some of them know Brian and Roger quite well. They’ve been following them since their Smile days. And from what I understand, Roger’s done some pretty rotten things behind his girlfriend’s backs.”

“Do I want to know?” I asked, unsure whether or not I actually wanted to listen to what Annie was about to say.

“Look, I know it’s going to be hard to hear, but maybe you need to hear it,” Annie said.

“Go ahead then,” I sighed.

“So, a few months ago the band did a show at Imperial, and Roger was dating a girl named Jo at the time. Well, that girl Kim, the one that you got in a fight with? She was at the show because she knows Roger from his neighborhood, and the two of them started kissing, right in front of Jo, and he ended up going back to Kim’s place with her, leaving Jo in tears.”

I stared at her in disbelief for a moment. If this was true, then I suddenly felt like I didn’t know Roger at all anymore. I had never even heard of a girl named Jo.

“And this was just a few months ago?” I asked.

“Yes,” Annie nodded solemnly. “Believe me, I wish I would have known about all of this sooner so that I could have told you, but I only just found out yesterday when I was on the phone with my friend Barbara from Imperial. And, she also told me that she knows for a fact that Roger goes through girls like water. She says he has a different one every time she sees him.”

“Fuck,” I swore under my breath. “That’s pretty much the same thing that Brian’s been trying to tell me for weeks.”

“I’m sorry, sweetie, I know this can’t be easy,” Annie sympathized. 

“I honestly don’t know what to do, or how to feel about him at this point,” I said exasperatedly. “Maybe I’m just being naïve, but I can’t help but wonder if maybe things are different this time, you know? What if Roger feels differently about me than he’s felt about those other girls? He swears to me that he does.”

“Well, there’s one easy way to find out, you know,” Annie said matter-of-factly. “Find a beautiful girl to tempt him, and see if he takes the bait. If he does, then you have your answer.”

“Annie, I can’t do that!” I hissed. “That’s like entrapment.”

“Okay, well then, how about you won’t have anything to do with it. Just leave it all to me,” Annie said, patting me reassuringly on the leg.

“I don’t like the sound of this…” I said slowly.

“What have you got to lose?” Annie asked. “If he doesn’t take the bait, then you know he loves you. And if he does… well, then I think you’ll find the decision about whether or not to leave Roger for Brian will suddenly become a lot easier.”

“I don’t know…”

“Look, when is Brian coming back?” Annie asked.

“Friday,” I replied.

“Perfect. Where do the guys usually like to hang out?”

“Freddie’s, or the Kensington Pub. They like to play pool there,” I said.

“The Kensington it is,” Annie nodded. “You and the guys make sure you’re there on Friday night, invite me along, and I’ll just ‘happen’ to bring a friend. And I think I know just the girl.”

I knew that Annie was just trying to help, but I didn’t see how such a scheme could possibly turn out well. If the wicked gleam in her eye was anything to go by, then I had a very bad feeling indeed about what was to come on Friday night…


	29. Chapter 29

The four days that Brian was away in Wales seemed to drag by at a snail’s pace. I couldn’t stop thinking about him. He’d told me that he loved me, and I knew now that I loved him too. There were many times during that week where I thought the best thing to do would be to just end things with Roger once and for all, but Roger seemed so genuinely happy that we were back together, that I just didn’t have the heart. I still loved and cared for Roger very much, but I was starting to realize that I might not be _in_ love with him any longer. I still felt so torn and confused. I tried very hard not to let on to Roger how tangled my feelings were, but it was becoming more and more difficult with each passing day.

It had gotten to he point where Brian was in my thoughts so much, that I sort of felt like I was beginning to lose my mind. On Tuesday, for instance, I spent the entire morning at school thinking about the way that Brian’s hair smelled. Once I got home, I told Roger that I needed a few things from the store, and went around the corner to my nearby Boots pharmacy to try and find a bottle of Silvikrin shampoo with almond oil. I nearly jumped for joy when I found that they had one in stock. I unscrewed the lid and leaned against the shelves of shampoo inhaling the scent, getting a few strange looks from other customers as I do so. I had taken my roll of film from Hampshire with me as well and dropped that off to be developed while I was there. I bought the shampoo and went home spending a good portion of the evening in the shower thinking of Brian and his thick, curly hair.

On Wednesday, I found myself wondering if Brian would really send me a postcard from Wales. I came home from school that afternoon and checked my mailbox while Roger watched TV, and was thrilled to find that, sure enough, a postcard with a picture of Cardiff on the front sat waiting for me. _Dear Mrs. May,_ it read, _having a wonderful time in Wales, but missing you very much. See you on Friday! Love, Mr. May._ I clutched the postcard to my heart, and tried very hard not to cry as I thought about Brian being so far away.

On Thursday, I found myself wondering if my pictures had been developed yet, and again, made up an excuse to run over to Boots. If my fellow shoppers had thought that I was nuts for sniffing a bottle of shampoo, then they likely thought that I was ready for the asylum when I opened up the envelope of photos and starting squealing over each and every one loudly in the middle of the store.

A tiny older woman peeked over my shoulder briefly, glancing at my pictures as she waited to pick up her own photos, and said, “That must have been quite a holiday!”

“Oh, it was!” I exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear.

I paid for the pictures and tucked them away inside a zippered compartment in my purse, and only brought them back out again when I thought the coast was clear at home.

By the time Friday rolled around, I was a nervous wreck. Annie kept cornering me all day at school about our “plans” that night at the Kensington, and I was really beginning to regret that I’d agreed to the whole thing in the first place. I knew that nothing good could possibly come of it. If Roger did flirt with the girl that Annie brought to the pub, then he would end up looking like the world’s biggest jerk. If he found out that I’d been trying to set him up, then _I_ was going to look like the world’s biggest jerk. Annie, however, seemed to think that it was going to work, so, in for a penny in for a pound, as they say.

I had talked to Roger innocently on Wednesday about getting together with the guys at the Kensington on Friday to shoot some pool and have a few drinks, and he seemed to like the idea, mainly because he thought Brian would still be out of town. Freddie had called on Thursday while Roger was in the shower, and I casually told him my thoughts for meeting up at the Kensington the next night. I said that it might be a good time for Roger and Brian to patch things up since Roger didn’t think Brian was going to be there. Freddie agreed, and with very little persuasion, I convinced him to call John and Brian and have them meet us in the pool hall at eight o’clock. Annie’s diabolical scheme was coming together nicely.

Roger and I were running about ten minutes late, as usual, and by the time we got to the Kensington, Freddie, John, Mary and Veronica were already in the poolroom waiting for us. The bar area inside the pub was pretty busy, with several people waiting to get their drinks, so we made our way past the crowd into the next room to greet the others.

“You made it!” Freddie shouted. “You’re lucky we got here early. Five different people have come in wanting to use the pool table since we got here.”

“How long have you been here?” Roger asked.

“Maybe twenty minutes or so,” Freddie replied.

“Well, we’d better rack up the balls then and play before someone kicks us out,” Roger joked.

“I’ll go get us a couple of drinks while you’re doing that,” I told Roger. “What do you want?”

“Just a beer,” he shrugged.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that Roger was being a little more distant than usual as I made my way back to the bar. Normally he would have bounded into the poolroom with a grin from ear to ear and a joke or snide comment at the ready for Freddie, but instead, he was being relatively quiet, heading straight to the pool table without saying much to anyone. I was hoping that he hadn’t found out about Annie’s plan somehow.

I was waiting for a couple of patrons to take their drinks so that I could get up to the bar, when I felt a hand on my shoulder and heard a jovial “Hey!” just behind me.

“Hey Annie!” I smiled, turning to greet her.

It was then that my eyes fell on one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen. She was about 5’8” with long golden blonde hair, big brown eyes and soft pouty lips. She was slim, but had curves in all the right places, which were accentuated by her skin-tight jeans and white tank top.

“Carrie, this is Brandy, Brandy this is Carrie,” Annie said, motioning to each of us in turn.

“Nice to meet you,” I said to Brandy, extending my hand to her.

“Wish it could be under better circumstances,” Brandy replied, taking my offered hand.

“I take it you know why you’re here tonight?” I asked a little hesitantly. “And you’re okay with it?”

“Perfectly fine with it,” Brandy said with a dismissive wave. “I wish someone had done the same for me with my last boyfriend.”

I just nodded my understanding and told both ladies that I was about to order some drinks for Roger and me. We finally found an opening at the bar, and Annie and Brandy each ordered a beer, as did I for Roger, but I felt like something fruity for myself and ordered a screwdriver instead.

“You’ll have to give me a minute on the cocktail,” the bartender said, sliding the three beers our way. “It’s a busy night, tonight, so just give me a couple minutes, yeah?”

I nodded my agreement and just took Roger’s beer with me for the moment.

“Let’s go meet this boyfriend of yours, shall we?” Brandy smiled.

“Might as well,” I said, and led the way into the poolroom, my stomach completely in knots.

Roger had his back to us when we first walked in, and seemed to be a little more talkative, as he laughed with Freddie about something.

“Well, well, who do we have here?” Freddie drawled with his usual Cheshire Cat-like grin, as his eyes found Annie first, and then lingered on Brandy.

“Hi fellas!” Annie said cheerfully. “This is a friend of mine from school, Brandy.”

“Lovely to meet you, darling,” Freddie purred, reaching for Brandy’s hand to shake it, and holding on to it just a little to long. It was the same way he’d looked at me when we first met, I thought, and I almost felt a little abandoned, like an old worn pair of shoes that had been replaced with a shiny new pair. Freddie ran his eyes appraisingly over her form, and continued on, “You must be a model, am I right?”

Jesus, I thought, we were there to tempt Roger, not Freddie!

“I do a bit of modeling,” Brandy said in a modest tone.

“She’s a lingerie model,” Annie chimed in.

“A lingerie model!” Freddie said loudly over his shoulder, directly at Roger. Roger, who had been gathering up the pool balls and racking them up, was now stock-still and leaning on the pool table with both hands, trying to get a better look at our new acquaintance.

“It helps pay for university,” Brandy shrugged.

“What are you studying?” Roger suddenly asked.

“Biology,” Brandy replied.

You had to be joking! I thought to myself. This girl was a beautiful lingerie model who happened to share Roger’s same field of study?? Why not just wrap her up, stick a bow on her and hand her directly to Roger saying ‘Merry Christmas’!

“You don’t say?” Roger said with a crooked grin, slowly making his way around the pool table. “I studied biology at East London Polytechnic.”

Annie gave me a fleeting glance to see how I was holding up, then looked to Brandy and said, “I’m sorry, I haven’t introduced you. This is Carrie’s boyfriend, Roger.”

“Nice to meet you,” Roger said, extending his hand.

“Nice to meet you,” Brandy simpered, taking the offered hand. She quirked her head slightly, studying Roger’s face, and said, “Do I know you from somewhere? Do you have a stall at Kensington Market?”

“I do,” Roger replied. “Well, Freddie and I do, but I haven’t been there as much lately.”

“I thought I recognized you,” Brandy smiled. “My friends Janis and Ian have a stall there selling their artwork.”

“Ground floor, right?” Roger grinned.

“Yeah, that’s them,” she said.

Just then the bartender’s voice rang out inside the pub, shouting, “Screwdriver! Who had the screwdriver?”

“Oh, that’s me,” I mumbled, mostly to myself, as I finally got around to handing Roger his beer.

I turned to walk out of the poolroom and heard Roger behind me asking Brandy, “So, do you play pool?”

“Not really,” she giggled in response, and then the noise from the bar drowned out their voices.

I shuffled up to the bar not quite sure if I was witnessing flirting, or just friendly behavior between Roger and Brandy. I was so bad at this sort of thing! I couldn’t help but think, though, that the shy smile he was giving her and the tone of his voice reminded me an awful lot of the way he acted when he’d first met me at Kensington Market.

I was about to get the bartender’s attention when I felt a gentle touch on my arm.

“Hey you,” a soft voice said behind me.

I turned to find Brian standing directly behind me, a smile on his face that lit up his beautiful hazel eyes, and my heart took flight.

“Hey to you!” I smiled, and reached up to twine my arms around his neck.

He wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me in for a warm embrace, and it felt like coming home. In fact, it made me think of the last line of the song he’d written me… _But some day one day, we’ll come home…_ This was that moment. We’d come home.

“I’ve missed you,” Brian whispered in my ear.

“I’ve missed you too,” I replied, as I pulled away to look up at him. He looked happier than I’d ever seen him. He was wearing his usual black bell-bottoms, a long sleeved striped shirt, and the black blazer that he always wore. He looked perfect.

“Oi,” a voice shouted at me from behind the bar. “You’re the screwdriver, yeah?”

“Oh, sorry, yeah,” I said, whirling around to take my drink. “Thank you!”

“Can I get you something, mate?” the bartender asked Brian.

“Guinness, please,” Brian replied.

“Coming right up,” the bartender said.

“Where is everybody?” Brian asked me.

“In the pool room,” I replied.

The bartender slid Brian his beer, and Brian held it aloft, saying, “Cheers!”

“So, how was Wales?” I asked.

“Not bad,” Brian grinned. “It was nice spending some time with my folks. I haven’t done that in a while. How have things been here since I’ve been gone?”

“About the same,” I shrugged.

“Did you get my postcard?” he asked hopefully.

“I did!” I laughed. “It made my day when it arrived. I’ve been carrying it around in my purse since I got it.”

“And…” he began slowly, looking awkwardly at the ground. “Did you get a chance to look inside the envelope I gave you?”

“Of course,” I replied. “About ten minutes after you’d left. I skipped my next class just for the purpose.”

I was about to go on and tell him how much I loved everything he’d given me, when Annie suddenly walked up, looking a little flustered.

“Ah, there you are,” she said to me. “I was wondering where you’d gone off to.” She looked up at Brian then, and said, “Brian! You’re back from your trip! It’s so nice to see you!”

“Nice to see you as well,” Brian replied.

Annie turned back to me and gave me a nearly imperceptible nod over her shoulder toward the poolroom.

“Guess we should rejoin the others, huh?” I asked.

“It might not be a bad idea,” Annie said, turning to lead the way.

“Does Roger know that I’m back in town?” Brian leaned in to ask me as we followed Annie.

“No,” I said.

“Ah, well, this should be interesting then,” he grinned.

My eyes went immediately to the pool table as soon as we entered the room, and I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. There was Roger, his body pressed against Brandy’s, as the two of them leaned over the pool table. He had his arms wrapped around hers intimately, in an attempt to teach her how to play pool, just like he’d done with me only a few weeks before. I might not have always been the quickest on the uptake where flirting was concerned, but I certainly knew what I was looking at in that moment.

“Hmm, this seems familiar somehow,” Brian said caustically, his gaze following mine to the pool table. “Who’s that with Roger?”

At the sound of Brian’s voice, Roger instantly looked up, a scowl forming between his brows. He straightened up, detaching himself from Brandy, and said, “I thought you were in Wales.”

“Just got back today,” Brian said cheerfully.

“Are we going to play a game now?” Brandy asked Roger hopefully.

“In a minute,” Roger smiled at her. “I think I need a quick cigarette first.”

He casually walked up to me as he removed the pack of Marlboros from his shirt pocket, shaking one of the cigarettes out as he went.

“Can I, uh, have a word with you outside on the patio, please?” Roger asked me in a chillingly calm voice.

“Everything all right?” Brian asked, his gaze shifting between Roger and me.

“Never better,” Roger replied, his eyes glinting dangerously.

I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, and wasn’t quite sure what was about to happen. Nevertheless, I set my drink on a nearby table and followed Roger through a door that was just to the side of the couch in the poolroom, which led onto an outdoor patio area with a few wooden tables and chairs. A short brick wall surrounded the patio, and I watched from a few feet away as Roger leaned back against the top and lit his cigarette, sending swirls of smoke into the chilly night air.

“So, you want to tell me what the hell’s going on tonight?” Roger asked me with a scowl.

“What are you talking about?” I asked, folding my arms across my chest for warmth.

“Annie just _happens_ to bring a lingerie model with her to play pool tonight?” Roger asked. “What was the point of all this? To tempt me? To see if I’d cheat on you?”

Damn it, he _was_ on to us.

“It was Annie’s idea,” I said, looking guiltily at the ground. “I didn’t really want to take part in it, I swear.”

“Who’s been filling your head full of shit about me?” Roger asked in a slightly raised voice.

“A better question might be who hasn’t!” I exclaimed. “Honestly, Roger, the stories that I’ve been hearing about you…”

“I have never lied to you!” Roger shouted.

“Well, I sure as hell don’t think you’ve always told me the complete truth either!” I cried. “Tell me, Roger, when were you going to let me know about Jo, and what happened the night that you cheated on her with Kim?!”

Roger paused, a dangerous look flashing across his countenance.

“Did Brian tell you about this?” he demanded.

“No, Annie did,” I said. “She has friends that go to Imperial College who know all about you. It seems your fame precedes you where women are concerned.”

Roger looked at he ground and flicked the ashes from his cigarette, not even attempting to deny my accusations.

“What am I to you Roger?” I asked in a pleading voice. “Just another girl to add to your ever growing list?”

“You know that’s not true!” Roger railed. “I told you that it’s not like that with us!”

“How am I supposed to know what to believe at this point?” I cried, throwing my hands out to my sides in frustration. “If you weren’t honest with me about Jo and Kim, then how do I know what else you’ve been dishonest about?”

“You’re a very curious one to talk about dishonesty,” Roger said in a deadly calm voice.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.

Roger took a long drag off of his cigarette, then reached into the back pocket of his jeans, pulling out what looked like a piece of paper folded in half. He unfolded it, and my blood ran cold when I saw a picture of Cardiff on the front. It was the postcard that Brian had sent me.

“Where did you get that?” I asked through gritted teeth. “You give that back to me right now!”

“Means that much to you, does it?” Roger asked with a malicious grin. He held it up then and started to read, _“Dear Mrs. May, having a wonderful time in Wales, but missing you very much. See you on Friday! Love, Mr. May._ Aw, how sweet! Tell me, did the two of you get married and forget to tell me?”

“Give that back _now_ Roger!” I screamed, ignoring his snide comments.

“Take it, I don’t want the fucking thing,” he said casually, refolding the postcard and flicking it across the patio where it landed at my feet.

I quickly snatched it up off the damp ground and unfolded it, my heart breaking over the fact that Roger had creased it and ruined it. I could have killed him.

“You had no right to go through my purse,” I fumed, glaring at him from across the patio.

“It’s funny you should mention that, cause I found even more than just the postcard in there,” Roger shot back, dropping his cigarette butt to the ground and snuffing it out with his foot. “I opened up your handbag, looking for my spare lighter while you were in the shower, and noticed a stack of photos. Silly me, I thought that maybe they were photos of us that I hadn’t seen yet. Imagine my shock, when I saw that they were, in fact, photos of you and Brian, looking as though you were off on holiday together!”

Feelings of anger, guilt and resentment all mixed inside of me, and I just stared at Roger, seething.

“What, no explanation for that?!” Roger shouted. “After you’ve told me time and time again that there’s _nothing_ between you and Brian?!”

“If you knew about this last night, then why didn’t you say anything to me?” I asked through gritted teeth.

“Because I knew that you had something planned for tonight, and my morbid curiosity got the better of me!” Roger exclaimed. “You never suggest that we play pool with the fellas, so I knew that something was up!”

I turned my back and walked even further away from him, folding my arms across my chest defiantly.

“So… let me ask you, which one of us has been lying in this relationship, you or me?!” Roger screamed.

The door from the poolroom opened at that moment, and Freddie, John and Brian slipped outside.

“What in the hell is going on out here?!” Freddie demanded. “The entire pub can hear you for Christ’s sake!”

Brian pushed past Freddie and John to make his way toward me, quietly wrapping an arm around my shoulders and asking if I was okay.

“She’s fine!” Roger exclaimed, shooting a venomous look at Brian’s back. “I was just asking her about some very interesting photos of the two of you that I found in her handbag, that’s all.”

“Oh, Jesus…” Freddie mumbled, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands.

“What, you know about them too?” Roger questioned. “Would somebody like to let me in on the little secret, or are you all just having far too much fun having a good laugh at my expense?”

Freddie looked at Brian and me imploringly as we turned to face everyone.

“Well? Are the two of you going to tell him or should I?” Freddie shouted at Brian and me.

“You know what? Why don’t _you!_ ” Brian shouted back at Freddie. “If it hadn’t been for you filling Carrie’s head full of crap that the fucking band was going to break up because of her, then everything would probably be okay right now!”

“What??” Roger cried, clearly more confused than ever.

“I’m sorry, darling, I’ve been trying to spare your feelings,” Freddie told Roger. “The truth is that Carrie and Brian ran off to Hampshire to have a dirty weekend the day after her party.”

“Don’t you dare call it a _dirty_ weekend!” Brian exclaimed. “It wasn’t like that at all, and you know it!”

“The two of you slept together, didn’t you?” Freddie railed. “What would you like me to call it?”

“Just shut the fuck up, all of you!” Roger wailed. “I’ve heard enough!”

Roger lashed out and kicked one of the nearby wooden patio chairs over on its side.

He pointed at me then and said, “We’re through, you and I, for good this time. I’m going to leave to go see my family in Truro tomorrow so that I don’t have to see either of your god damn faces for a while, and I want your stuff out of my flat so that I don’t have to see it when I come back.”

“Good, I want your stuff out of my flat too!” I exclaimed. “So why don’t we take care of it right now!”

“The sooner the better,” Roger replied.


	30. Chapter 30

The five of us stormed back through the door into the poolroom, Roger going first, with Brian and me bringing up the rear. Mary and Veronica were giving us all an exasperated glare, and Annie and Brandy were long since gone.

“Are you sure you want to do this right now?” Brian asked me.

“Yes,” I said. “The best thing we could do right now is make a clean break of things.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” Roger grumbled. “So whose place is it going to be first, yours or mine?”

“If Brian wouldn’t mind, maybe he could take me over to your place first,” I replied.

“Fine, but he’s not coming in!” Roger exclaimed.

“No one said that he had to,” I argued. “Now let’s go.”

The three of us left Freddie and John behind with their girlfriends, and made our way past the crowds of people at the bar to head out through the front door of the pub. Roger stalked off toward his car without saying another word, while Brian reached for my hand, guiding me down a side street, saying, “I’m just parked over here.”

Roger lived so close to the Kensington that we were there in a matter of minutes. He had obviously gotten to his place first, because Brian pulled up behind his car.

He shut off the engine and reached for my hand, asking, “Are you sure you don’t want me to go up with you?”

“No, it’ll be fine, I promise,” I said, giving him a weak smile. “I don’t have much up there anyway, so it shouldn’t take long.”

Brian gave my hand a quick squeeze, and I got out of his car, a chilly gust of wind blowing my hair around my face. I reached up to push my hair out of my eyes, heading for the door of Roger’s building with determination.

I walked up the stairs to find Roger’s door already open ajar. I pushed it the rest of the way open and found that Roger’s place looked just the way that I’d left it after I’d cleaned it up a few days before. Roger was sitting on his bed, lighting up a cigarette when I walked in, and without saying a word to him, I marched straight over to his shelves and drawers and rifled through them, finding everything that belonged to me.

“Do you have some sort of a grocery bag or box that I could put everything in?” I asked reluctantly.

Without a word, Roger got up and went to the small closet in the corner of his kitchen and pulled out a paper bag, handing it to me on his way back to the bed.

I opened it up and stacked my Jane Austen books in the bottom, my clothes on top of the books, and my toothbrush, deodorant, etc. on top of all that. Memories of the last several weeks flooded my mind, and I found myself angrily fighting back tears.

“Why are you crying?” Roger asked irritably. “You should be happy. You’ll finally get to be with Brian now.”

I stopped packing up my things, and just stood at the end of his bed staring at him.

“You don’t get it at all, do you?” I asked. “It didn’t have to end this way. I loved you more than any other man I’ve ever known.”

“Yeah, that’s obvious,” Roger said sarcastically, staring down at his lit cigarette. “You loved me so much you decided to sleep with my best friend.”

“You left me!” I screamed. “You accused me of having an affair with Brian and then walked out on me without giving me a chance to explain!”

“What was there to explain?” Roger cried. “You _were_ having an affair with him!”

“Not at that time I wasn’t!” I argued.

“You slept with him the second that I left you!” Roger shouted. “If you hadn’t been sleeping with him before your party, then _something_ was going on between the two of you, otherwise things would have never gone that far that quickly, I know you!” 

“Fine, you know what? Whatever. This is getting us nowhere,” I said at last, hoisting my bag of stuff up off of Roger’s bed.

“Why can’t you just admit it?” Roger demanded. “Just tell me! How long have you been screwing him?”

“I already told you, it was just the one time after you’d stormed out on me!” I exclaimed. “As far as I knew, you and I were broken up. You’d taken all of your things from my flat, and it didn’t look like you were planning on coming back.”

“So how long have you been wanting to screw him then? How long have you fancied him?”

“Roger, I don’t want to discuss this further with you…”

“Come on, don’t I at least deserve to know the truth?” Roger questioned.

“I don’t know! Okay? That’s the truth, I don’t know!” I exclaimed. “It’s been coming on gradually for weeks.”

“Why couldn’t you have just told me?” Roger asked angrily.

“Because there was nothing to tell,” I said, dropping my bag back onto Roger’s bed for the moment. “I don’t think that I truly realized that I was in love with Brian until he took me to Hampshire.”

“Why Hampshire? Why the bloody hell did he take you to Hampshire?”

“He took me to see Jane Austen’s house,” I answered, not knowing why I still felt as though I owed him an explanation. “I’d been crying half the night after you left, and it was only meant to cheer me up, that’s all.”

Roger barked out a hollow laugh, and said, “You’re so naïve.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, folding my arms across my chest.

“Brian’s just a lot smoother than I gave him credit for, that’s all,” Roger shrugged. “I mean everybody knows how much you love Jane Austen. Taking you to her house was a shoe-in. Wish I’d have thought of it actually.”

“You know what? I’m not going to listen to anymore of this,” I said impatiently, picking my bag back up again. “I’m not going to listen to you try and cheapen what Brian and I had together that night.”

“Trust me, the last thing I want to hear about is what you and Brian did together that night,” Roger cringed.

“Good, well, I’ve got all of my stuff, so you can come over to my place and get all of your stuff,” I said, and walked out the door before Roger could irritate me further.

I ran down the stairs to Brian’s waiting car, threw open the passenger side door and flopped down inside, keeping my bag of stuff on my lap.

“Everything okay?” Brian asked tentatively.

Just the sight of his sweet, caring face made me feel instantly better.

“It will be,” I answered, “as soon as Roger comes over to get all of his shit out of my place.”

Brian just nodded his agreement and started up his car, heading off in the direction of my flat.

Once we were there, I grabbed my purse and bag of stuff and trudged up the stairs with Brian right behind me. I reached in my purse and fumbled with my keys, having difficulty juggling them and the bag in my arms, so Brian reached out to take them from me, and unlocked my door.

“Thank you,” I said gratefully.

“Of course,” Brian said, reaching for the light switch just inside my flat as he shut the front door with a quiet click.

I wandered off in the direction of my bedroom and dumped my purse along with the contents of the bag onto my bed.

Brian sat down on the end of my bed and picked up each of my Jane Austen books one at a time, saying, “This small amount of stuff was worth all the trouble of having to rush over to Roger’s? I can’t see how he would have even known it was there.”

“Honestly, its okay,” I said with a dismissive wave. “I’d rather get it over with now and make a clean break than to put it off for another time.”

I could hear the doorknob rattling on my front door, and walked out into my living room just in time to see Roger casually walking into my flat.

“Sorry, I forgot, I guess I’ve got to knock now, don’t I?” Roger asked flippantly, seeing the irritated look on my face.

“Just come in and get your things,” I said exasperatedly.

“I don’t suppose you have a bag or a box?” Roger asked sardonically in an apparent attempt to mock me for asking for a bag at his place.

“You can have yours back,” I said, leading the way into my bedroom, where Brian was still sitting at the end of my bed.

“Ah, it’s the backstabber himself, ready to move in and take my place,” Roger scowled at the sight of Brian.

“Piss off, Rog,” Brian grumbled. “I’m not in the mood for you to start anything.”

“You’ve got the nerve to tell _me_ to piss off?!” Roger exclaimed. “You’re lucky I don’t punch your fucking face!”

“Well, unlike you, I have more respect for Carrie than to get into a fist fight in her flat,” Brian said. He looked to me then, as he got up off of my bed, and said, “I’ll just go wait in the kitchen.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be out of here in no time!” Roger yelled at Brian’s retreating form. “That way the two of you can finish what you started in Hampshire!”

“For fuck’s sake…” I muttered irritably. I walked to my closet and threw open the door, asking Roger, “What do you still have here?”

“Don’t trouble yourself,” Roger said. “I can get everything on my own.”

I moved out of his way and sat on the edge of the bed, watching as Roger gathered up all of his clothes, his toothbrush, cologne, spare lighter, etc., filling up the same bag that I’d brought back from his place.

“I’ve got a couple things in the other room…” he grumbled, lifting the bag off of my bed and carrying it into my living room.

I got off the bed and followed right behind him.

Roger picked up a science fiction novel that he’d been reading off of my coffee table and tossed that into the bag, then reached for the pack of Marlboros that always sat next to my ashtray.

“You’ll be happy to be rid of these, I’m sure,” Roger said, holding up the pack of cigarettes. “Or Brian will at least…” 

He turned to look over his shoulder through the doorway of my kitchen, where Brian was visible, leaning his back against the wall near my kitchen window, his arms folded across his chest.

“Ain’t that right, Bri?” Roger called out, waving his cigarettes at him. “No more cigarette smoke to worry about around here! Aren’t you happy?”

He tossed the cigarettes into the bag with so much force that they nearly bounced back out, as he continued to stare daggers at his friend.

“Do you have everything?” I asked impatiently.

“I’d like the spare key to my flat back,” Roger answered, turning back to me.

“I’d like mine back as well,” I said, walking into my bedroom briefly to dig Roger’s key out of my purse. I headed back into the living room and held it out to him. He, in turn, took my key from around his neck, which he’d been wearing as a necklace again since we’d gotten back together, and held it out to me.

I looked at the silver bracelet Roger had given me in Brighton, dangling from my wrist as I reached for my key, and decided that I didn’t want it anymore. I unclasped it, and held it out to Roger, saying, “Here, I’m giving this back.”

I saw a look of sadness pass across Roger’s countenance as he jerked the bracelet from my hand and threw it into the bag.

“I’ll see you around,” Roger scowled, lifting his bag off of my coffee table and stalking to my front door, slamming it as he left.

I took a deep, cleansing breath and let it out slowly, before walking into my kitchen to join Brian.

“Are you all right?” Brian asked, stretching his arms out to me for a warm embrace.

“I’ll be fine,” I sighed, feeling the tension instantly start to ease as Brian enveloped me in his arms. “I want to tell you something that’s been on my mind since reading your letter on Monday though.”

“Oh?” Brian asked, pulling away slightly to look down at me.

“I love you too,” I said, looking up into his eyes.

Brian smiled down at me, his expression filled with emotion, as he kissed me softly on the lips. Now the two of us were truly home, and we were home to stay.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

After Roger left, I wandered around my flat doing a lot of busy nothings. I washed the few dishes that were in my sink, I cleaned up the mess that Roger had left on the coffee table of cigarette ashes and half-drunk cups of tea, and I went into my bedroom to put away all the things that I’d brought home from Roger’s place. Brian remained by my side the whole time, talking to me, and keeping my mind occupied, but he could tell that I was restless.

“Feel like going to my place?” he asked at last, as he sat on my bed watching me fold the last of the clothes that I’d brought back from Roger’s.

“Um, sure. I guess we could,” I said.

“I just thought that maybe it would be good for you to get out for here for a bit and away from all the memories,” Brian said thoughtfully. “Maybe we could start some new memories over at my place.”

“That actually sounds like a really good idea,” I sighed.

I gathered up a few things to take with me, including some clean clothes, make-up, etc., and gave my place the once over, making sure everything was turned off and put away before the two of us headed off into the night back toward Kensington and Brian’s tiny flat.

“Just so you know, my place is a little messy right now,” Brian said apologetically as we walked up to his door. “Between our trip to Hampshire and then the trip to Wales, I haven’t really been home all that much to keep up with things.”

We walked inside, and I was greeted with a variety of clutter scattered around almost every surface. Brian’s small wooden coffee table was covered with books, bits of paper, empty plates and cups, and a variety of other things. An acoustic guitar was lying on the couch, along with the pictures Brian had taken during our trip to Hampshire. His sink was full of dishes, and the small amount of kitchen counter space that he had was covered in magazines, newspapers and unread mail. His tiny kitchen table was hidden beneath a sea of paper grocery bags, which apparently he couldn’t be bothered to unpack.

I smiled to myself as I looked around, loving everything about his flat, mess and all, because it was just so Brian.

“Let me just clear some of this stuff away,” Brian mumbled as he walked over to his couch to pick up the guitar and pictures. The guitar he leaned against the side of the couch, and the pictures joined the rest of the clutter on the coffee table.

“It’s refreshing to be around someone who’s as messy as me,” I smiled, sitting down on the couch.

“You’re not messy,” Brian said, picking up his dirty dishes off of the coffee table and walking them to the sink.

“Oh no, trust me, I am,” I laughed. “The only reason my place has been as clean as it has the last few weeks is because I didn’t want Roger to know what a slob I was.”

“Oh. How sad that you felt you couldn’t be yourself around him,” Brian said, walking over to join me on the couch.

“Huh, I never really thought of it that way,” I said quietly.

“I wouldn’t have cared if your place was a mess,” Brian grinned. “I would have been there to see you, not your flat.”

I just smiled at him and said, “Have I mentioned how much I love you?”

“I love you too,” he smiled back, his eyes lighting up as he said it. “Oh, which reminds me, I have something for you.”

Brian leapt up off of the couch heading for the doorway of his bedroom. I could hear him rustling around in the next room, and the sound of a dresser drawer closing with a snap.

He walked back out into the living room holding a small brightly wrapped present tied with purple ribbon, and sat back down on the couch next to me.

“What on earth is that?” I smiled.

“This, is for you,” Brian said, holding the gift out to me. “I never got you anything for your birthday, so this is a late present.”

I took the gift from his hands, my eyes wide with surprise, and said, “Brian, you didn’t need to do this.”

“I wanted to,” he said with a shrug. “I found it at an antique shop in Wales and knew you had to have it.”

I pulled the wrapping paper off carefully, and gasped when I saw an old hardcover copy of Jane Austen’s _Sense and Sensibility_ looking up at me. It was gold with swirly floral designs across the cover, and I gasped yet again when I saw that it contained illustrations by C.E. Brock.

“Oh my God, Brian,” I breathed. “It’s beautiful! I can’t believe you found and old C.E. Brock edition!”

“Is that good?” Brian asked with a smile.

“Yes,” I laughed. “He was one of the few artists that ever illustrated Jane Austen’s novels, and is certainly the most famous illustrator of her work. I hope you didn’t pay a lot for it.”

“Surprisingly I didn’t. The chap running the shop probably didn’t know what he had.”

“It’s amazing,” I said, flipping through the pages. I looked up at Brian and said, “Thank you, this really means a lot.”

I reached up meaning to just give him a quick kiss, but found that once I felt his soft lips against mine, that I couldn’t stop with just one. We leaned into each other, reveling in the fact that we could kiss and touch each other as much as we wanted now.

“It’s so nice to know that we don’t have to hide our feelings anymore,” I whispered, pulling away slightly to look up at him. “I’m so glad you’re back from Wales.”

“Me too,” Brian whispered back.

I leaned back as a thought occurred to me, and said, “Oh, I have something I want to show you too.”

I reached down to grab my purse off of the floor, and dug inside my not-so-secret zippered compartment, pulling out the pictures I’d taken in Hampshire and handing them to Brian.

“I take it these are the photos that Roger found?” Brian asked.

“Yes,” I said grudgingly. “He had no right to go digging through my purse.”

“Well, I’m glad he found them,” Brian said, flipping through the first couple of pictures. “Now we don’t have to keep secrets anymore.”

“Very true,” I said, snuggling up close to Brian as he continued to look through the photos. We laughed at the pictures I’d taken of him posing with the old Austen water pump and lime tree, particularly because he had a funny look on his face in both photos, and he really seemed to like some of the shots I’d taken of Jane Austen’s house and the neighboring thatched roof cottages, saying that I had a good eye for composition. I reveled in his kind words and told him that I’d make some copies for him the next time I went to the store.

Brian reached out to his coffee table then, snatching up the pictures that he’d taken so that we could compare notes, just as we’d jokingly said that we would the day that we left for Hampshire. We both had to laugh when we realized that many of the pictures we’d taken were almost identical.

“Well, they do say that great minds think alike,” Brian chuckled.

“That may be true for the two of us where photography is concerned,” I replied, “but I know when it comes to music, that one of us has a far greater mind than the other.”

Brian gave me a slightly puzzled look.

“I’m talking about the song you wrote for me, of course,” I grinned. “When are you going to play it for me?”

Brian smiled a little bashfully and said, “I can play it for you right now, if you want.”

“Yes!” I exclaimed, scooting over on the couch to give him space. “I’ve been waiting all week for this!”

Brian picked up the guitar that he’d propped against the couch, then looked at me and said, “I’m not much of a singer, mind you.”

“Oh shush,” I reproached. “I heard you singing in the car on the way back from Hampshire, and you have a beautiful voice.”

“You’re too kind,” Brian said, shaking his head, as he plucked at the strings of his guitar, turning a couple of the tuning keys slightly so that the sound met with his satisfaction. “Okay, here goes…”

I sat completely transfixed, my heart feeling as though it might burst, as he strummed out the first few chords of the song and then started to sing…

_You never heard my song before the music was too loud_  
But now I think you hear me well for now we both know how  
No star can light our way in this cloud of dark and fear  
But some day one day… 

By the time he finished with the song I was completely in tears. I couldn’t get over the fact that he’d written something so beautiful for me, or that he could describe our recent roller coaster of a relationship in such a way that no one but the two of us could know the song’s true meaning.

“What did you think?” he asked, giving me a shy smile.

“I think it’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever heard,” I said, wiping at my eyes with the back of my hand.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry,” Brian said.

“They’re happy tears, believe me,” I smiled.

Brian set his guitar back down and looked at me thoughtfully, saying, “I couldn’t sleep almost the entire night after I’d left you at Roger’s. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and about us, and I had to get my thoughts and feelings out. That’s where this song came from. It’s probably the quickest song I’ve ever written because every word, every line just seemed to come to me instantly.”

“Well, I must have been picking up on how you felt that night, even across town, because I couldn’t sleep either. And when I did sleep, I just kept dreaming about you and Hampshire and being at our quaint little bed & breakfast together,” I said.

“Yes, we’re going to have to go back there one of these days,” Brian said, leaning in closer to me. “Let’s see, we were there on the 25th of March, am I right?”

“Hmm, yes, the 25th,” I agreed after thinking about it for a second.

“Well then, next year on 25th of March, I say we go back to commemorate our one-year anniversary,” Brian said, leaning in even closer. “What do you say?”

“I say it’s a date,” I replied.

Brian closed what little distance was between us, leaning in to kiss me as he wrapped one arm around me, and slid the other arm under my legs so that he could lift them onto his lap. We sat on his couch, arms entwined, hands tangled in each other’s hair, kissing until we were breathless.

“Feel like moving this to my bed, Mrs. May?” Brian asked in a throaty voice.

“Absolutely, Mr. May,” I replied.


	31. Chapter 31

Brian shifted me off of his lap so that he could get up off of the couch, then reached down to pick me up and toss me over his shoulder. I squealed with delight, and was reminded of the time at Freddie’s when he’d done the same thing after I’d gotten into the fight with Kim. I hadn’t realized at Freddie’s how much I enjoyed the sensation of dangling over Brian’s shoulder with his hands clasped firmly on my bottom.

He took me into his bedroom and flopped me down onto his bed then landed on top of me with a playful smile, saying, “I hope you know that I’ve been able to think of little else besides making love to you again ever since we left Hampshire. In fact, there were mornings that were downright embarrassing in Wales, having to wake up in the same hotel room as my parents, if you catch my drift…”

I snorted with laughter and asked, “What did you do?”

“Well, I tried to think about astronomy, but then that just led back to thoughts of us lying in that field looking up at the stars, which certainly didn’t help, so in the end I just laid in bed with my eyes closed doing math equations in my head until the problem subsided,” Brian explained.

I literally laughed until I cried.

“It wasn’t funny, believe me!” Brian grinned. “My parents were accusing me of being lazy and not wanting to face the day!”

I laughed even harder as I imagined the disapproving looks on Brian’s parent’s faces.

“You have no idea about how much upheaval you’ve brought into my life, do you?” Brian teased, his eyes sparkling with laughter.

“I’m sorry,” I laughed, wiping a tear from my eye. “How can I make it up to you?”

“Well, you could start here I suppose…” Brian grinned, his mouth eagerly seeking mine. I reached for his thick curly hair, burying my fingers within it as I reveled in the sensation of our bodies being pressed together. I loved the way he kissed, I thought to myself. His lips were so soft and perfect and just seemed to fit together so effortlessly with my own.

I sighed as he moved his mouth down to my stomach, lifting up my Beatles t-shirt to expose the sensitive flesh beneath. He kissed and nibbled on my skin, making the deep recesses between my legs ache for him to go further. He lifted my shirt up over my head and reached behind my back to unclasp my bra, exposing my breasts to his eager hands and mouth. I moaned with pleasure as he took each of my breasts into his mouth, sucking and teasing each one as I continued to run my hands through his hair.

He sat up momentarily to pull his striped shirt up over his head, tossing it on the floor, then laid back down on top of me, our bare chests pressed together as we plunged our tongues back into each other’s mouths. We stretched out across his tiny bed, our arms and legs tangled together as our heartbeats kept time with one another’s. The smell of his cologne and shampoo filled my nostrils as I kissed my way down his neck, sucking and kissing his skin, as Brian made little sighing noises.

He shifted his weight off of me then, lying next to me and reaching for the button and zipper on my pants as we continued to kiss every inch of skin that we could reach on one another. I felt his long fingers reach their way into my panties, plunging deep inside of me, as he breathed into my ear whispering my name. I whimpered helplessly as he continued to move his fingers faster inside of me, my breaths coming out in ragged gasps.

He reached for the waistband of my jeans and panties, pulling them the rest of the way down, and kissed down my throat to my chest and my stomach until his mouth found the warm wet center between my legs. I gasped as his tongue plunged deep inside of me, tasting and playing with my sensitive flesh, his hands reaching up to my breasts as his hair tickled the inside of my thighs.

“Oh God, Brian,” I breathed, arching my back with desire.

He stood up suddenly, unfastening his pants and pulling them along with his underwear all the way off. He kissed his way back up my stomach and chest until he reached my throat, sucking and biting gently on my neck as he positioned himself between my thighs. I spread my legs wider to accommodate him, wrapping them around his body and pulling him in closer as he pushed his way deep inside me.

“Oh, fuck…” we practically sighed at the same time, as he moved deeper inside me, every inch of him filling my body. I’d almost forgotten how wonderful our bodies felt joined together, as he moved faster, making me whimper and cry out for more. The two of us moved in unison, meeting each other thrust for thrust, as I ran my hands over the taught muscles of his back, his hair tickling my face as he breathed heavily into my ear, sucking and nibbling on my earlobe until I felt like I was going to lose my mind.

We’d both been so desperate to be with each other again, that it didn’t take either of us very long to reach our climax. The harder Brian drove into me, the faster I felt it coming on.

“Brian… Brian…” I gasped, as wave after wave of pleasure shook my entire body. 

My climax seemed to trigger Brian’s, and he pushed deeply inside me one last time, moaning loudly as he came.

“Oh my God,” he gasped. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” I breathed.

He collapsed onto the bed next to me, and pulled me into his arms for a quick kiss as we each tried to catch our breath.

“God you’re beautiful,” Brian whispered as he wiped a stray hair from my face. “I don’t know how a tall, skinny fella that looks like me could end up with a girl that looks like you.”

“Do you honestly not know how attractive you are?” I asked him, gazing down at his beautiful face disbelievingly.

Brian just shook his head doubtfully, as he brushed his fingers gently along my arm.

“Well then, let me inform you,” I smiled, propping myself up on one elbow. I started at the top of his head, twirling one of his curls in my fingers, and said, “You’ve got the softest, most beautiful hair that I’ve ever seen...”

I ran my index finger down his forehead to his eyes, making little circles around each, as I said, “And your bright hazel eyes were the first thing I noticed about you the very first night we met at Freddie’s.”

I continued to run my finger down his nose to his mouth, brushing the tip of my finger lightly across his lips, as I said, “You’ve got an adorable nose, and perfect pouty lips that were just made for kissing…”

I leaned in closer to him, kissing and sucking on his neck, saying in between kisses, “You’ve got a long… sexy… slender neck… that I can’t keep my lips off of…” 

I ran my hand over his chest and stomach, playing with his nipples as I went, telling him, “You’ve got a rock hard chest, and a gorgeous stomach that I want to lick every time I get a glimpse of it. And the cutest little brown nipples that I’ve ever seen.”

I bent my head to his chest, taking each of his nipples in my mouth, sucking and teasing them until they were hard. I could feel Brian shiver at my touch, as he sucked in air quickly through his mouth. I reached down to his thighs, squeezing and massaging each one before saying, “You’ve got the longest, most adorable legs I’ve ever seen, and I love it when we’re lying together and you wrap them around me.”

I kissed my way down his chest to his stomach, running my tongue along the faint trail of hair just below his bellybutton. I wrapped my fingers around his cock, which to my surprise was already getting hard again, and said, “And you’ve got other, very nice, very large assets…” 

I ran my tongue up the side of his cock, tasting myself on his skin as I went.

“Holy shit,” Brian sighed, reaching down to tangle his hands in my long blonde hair.

I wrapped my lips around his shaft, sucking and tasting every inch of him that I could fit into my mouth. Within seconds, Brian was completely hard again. I crawled on top of him, straddling his body with my legs. I looked down into his bedroom eyes then and said, “Now do you understand how attractive I find you?”

He reached up and pulled my face down to his for a deep, fiery kiss, as his hands roamed down my back, grabbing and squeezing my ass cheeks. I lowered myself down over his hard cock, making him bite his bottom lip and toss his head back over the sensation. Our lovemaking lasted even longer this time, with me on top, then Brian on top, until we both reached our climax and collapsed into a tired breathless heap on his bed.

“Oh my God,” Brian gasped, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “If you keep this up, you’re going to wear me out.”

“Are you complaining?” I teased, curling up against him.

“Oh no, definitely not complaining,” Brian smiled.

The two of us snuggled together under the blankets, arms and legs intertwined, and chattered away about any topic that popped into our heads, before we both eventually drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

We woke up the next morning around 10 o’clock to the incessant ringing of Brian’s phone. We both stretched and yawned, and Brian mumbled, “If that’s Freddie, I’m gonna kill him” before begrudgingly getting out of bed to answer the call.

I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and watched Brian’s cute little ass shake as he walked out into his living room. His hair was sticking up in every direction, and he looked absolutely adorable. I sprawled out contentedly under the covers on his bed, reveling in the warmth that Brian’s body had left behind, and listened to see if I could tell who he was talking to on the phone.

“Hello?” he said, picking up the receiver. “Oh, hi Mum. Yeah, well, I just woke up actually. I was up a bit late last night. Uh, yeah, I think I’ve got something for breakfast. No, don’t worry. I’ve been eating. You are? When? No, it’s just that I have company over right now. Yeah, it’s the girl I was telling you about when we were in Wales. Yes, the one I bought the Jane Austen book for. Uh, yeah, I guess that should be okay. Right, I’ll see you then. Bye. Bye.”

“Your mom, I take it?” I smiled as Brian shuffled back into the room and crawled back under the covers.

“Yes,” he said. “And apparently she and my dad are coming by today, so I don’t know if you’ll want to stick around or not.”

“That’s up to you,” I replied. “Are you ready for me to meet your parents?”

“I’d love for you to meet my parents,” said Brian, cuddling closer to me. “The question is do you want to meet them?”

“Are they going to give me the third degree?” I laughed.

“Most likely,” Brian smiled.

“Will I be able to understand their accents?” I asked.

“You’re the one with the accent, not us, remember?” Brian laughed.

“Oh, here we go with that again…” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Look, I can’t help it. Facts are facts. We are the ones who invented the language,” Brian said with conviction, his eyes sparkling mischievously all the while. “Now what you Americans have done with our language, I can’t say.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” I protested, pretending to be offended when I knew full well that he was only teasing me.

“I’m just saying, words like, ‘hey ya’ll I’m fixin’ to shoot that ornery little critter’ are not proper English!” Brian argued in his best American accent.

“So that’s what you think all Americans sound like, is it?” I asked, my eyes flashing dangerously as I spoke. I instantly adopted a thick southern accent and said, “Awrighty then, that’s exactly how I’m gonna to talk when your parents arrive, and I’m gonna to tell ‘em all about how I live in a wooden shack back home, how my pappy molests sheep, and how many times I’ve been abducted by UFOs over the years.”

Brian laughed, clasped his hands together pleadingly and said, “No, anything but that!”

“Nope, I’m American, remember? Gotta stay true to my roots,” I continued on in the same southern accent.

“Okay! Okay!” Brian laughed, pulling me toward him for a hug. “Have I ever told you how much I love a California accent?”

“Keep talking,” I said.

“And how I think that Americans are beautiful people who always sound sophisticated and intelligent,” Brian smiled.

“That’s a backhanded compliment if ever I’ve heard one,” I said, smacking Brian lightly in the arm.

“I mean it!” Brian argued. “I really do love California accents, and there’s one in particular that I’m especially fond of.”

Brian bent his head over mine and gave me a quick kiss.

“Okay, I guess I can let you back into my good graces,” I smiled. “But I’ve got a question for you. How are you planning on introducing me to your parents?”

“What do you mean?” Brian asked.

“Well, I mean, our relationship is still pretty new, so…”

“Would you mind if I introduced you as my girlfriend?”

“I would love it if you introduced me as your girlfriend,” I grinned.

“Well then it’s settled,” Brian smiled.

“Mm, my boyfriend, Mr. May,” I sighed, curling up against his side.

“My girlfriend, Mrs. May,” Brian laughed. “Hey, are you hungry? I don’t have much in my kitchen, but I think I’ve got some corn flakes and milk.”

“Ah, the breakfast of champions!” I teased.

The two of us got up, and I found my t-shirt and panties from the night before, putting them on temporarily so that we could go in and eat breakfast. Brian reached into one of his dresser drawers and pulled out a pair of short white shorts that he also wore just until he could take a shower and officially get dressed for the day.

“So when are your parents coming by?” I asked.

“In a couple of hours,” Brian answered, leading the way into his living room / kitchen area. He paused just outside of his bedroom door, running his hands through his tangled hair, and said, “Oh God. I forgot what a mess this place is. My mother will want to clean everything up and put things away for me, and I won’t be able to find anything for a month!”

“Well,” I drawled, wrapping my arms around his waist from behind and surveying the mess in question, “we’ll just have to clean it up before they get here.”

“No, no, no. I can’t have you cleaning up my flat,” Brian said shaking his head.

“Why not?” I asked. “I owe you one anyway for when you helped me clean up my flat last weekend after the party.”

“That was different,” Brian said. “That wasn’t your mess.”

“Well, I don’t care,” I stated firmly. “You’re my boyfriend now, and I’m going to help.” I walked away from him toward the kitchen then, and turned back to ask, “So where are those corn flakes you promised me?”

Brian followed me into the kitchen, showing me what cupboards the dishes were in (the few that were actually clean, that was!) and where the food was located, etc. We poured our bowls of corn flakes, and cleared a small spot at his kitchen table to sit and eat them. We always had lots to talk about, and sat over our cereal discussing how his dad was an electronics engineer and worked for the Ministry of Aviation. He told me all about how his dad loved to tinker with things, and even though Roger had told me at some point that Brian had made his own guitar, Brian told me the full story behind it and how he and his dad had spent 18 months working on it. Needless to say, I was suitably impressed.

After our breakfast we set about cleaning up the place, starting with the bags of groceries on Brian’s table.

“I hope there was nothing in here that needed to be refrigerated,” I teased as I peered into one of the bags.

“No, that stuff I put away,” Brian answered.

Once the table was clear we decided to divide and conquer, with Brian cleaning off the coffee table and kitchen counter and me doing the dishes. The dishes themselves shouldn’t have taken me all that long, but I was distracted throughout by the sight of Brian bending over his coffee table and running around his flat in nothing but a short pair of shorts. The man was absolutely killing me. 

Once I’d washed and dried every dish, glass, and piece of silverware, Brian showed me where everything went, and before we knew it, the place was actually presentable.

“Wow! I can’t believe how clean everything looks!” Brian said, hands on his hips, as he stood in his living room admiring our handiwork. “Thank you so much for all your help.”

“It was no big deal,” I shrugged. “Now all we’ve got left to do is make ourselves presentable.”

We each took turns taking a shower and getting dressed, and I was thankful that I had thought ahead to bring clean clothes, a toothbrush and some make-up with me. Brian looked very nice in a white button down shirt and pin striped black bell-bottoms, while I was wearing one of my Kensington Market peasant blouses and my tan corduroy pants.

I was just in the process of combing out my hair in Brian’s bathroom, with Brian standing next to me chatting, when a knock sounded at his front door.

“Ready to face the music?” Brian grinned.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” I said.

Brian went to answer the door, and I had no idea where to stand or what to do, so I just sort of stood awkwardly in his kitchen, shifting my weight from one foot to the other, as a variety of accents echoed in his small entryway.

“I’ve brought you some of your favorite biscuits, son, since I know that you never have enough to eat,” I distinctly heard a female voice with a Scottish accent say.

“Oh, mum, you didn’t need to do that,” Brian replied quietly. “I told you over the phone that I had plenty to eat.”

“Just tell your mother thank you, son,” a male Cockney accent replied in a slow drawl. “You know she still likes to take care of you.”

“Thanks, Mum,” Brian said sweetly.

“And… Ah! This must be Carrie,” Brian’s mom trilled, as she walked into Brian’s kitchen area with Brian and his dad following closely behind.

“Yes, Mum, Dad, I’d like to introduce you to my girlfriend. This is Carrie Martin,” Brian said, closing the distance between us to wrap a protective arm around me.

“Nice to meet you Carrie,” each of them said, reaching out to shake my hand.

“Carrie, this is my mum, Ruth, and my dad, Harold,” Brian told me.

“Very nice to meet you both,” I said, taking each of their hands in turn. I looked up at Brian and said, “You never told me that you look just like your mom.”

“There definitely is a family resemblance, isn’t there?” Ruth answered with a smile. “Brian told us how lovely you were, but I thought he was probably exaggerating. Now I see he wasn’t.”

“Very lovely young lady indeed,” Harold May chimed in.

I blushed slightly and mumbled out a quiet thank you to his parents, and then Brian motioned for all of us to sit down. Brian’s dad took the chair that was placed at one end of the coffee table while his mom sat at one end of the couch and I sat at the other. Brian, meanwhile, went into the kitchen to make everyone a cup of tea.

“So, Brian tells us you’re from California,” Ruth said to me.

“Yes, from a town called Fresno,” I replied.

“Where is Fresno exactly?” Harold asked.

“Right near the center of the state,” I said. “About halfway between Los Angeles and San Francisco.”

“I knew a chap during the war from a place called Hanford,” Harold said slowly. “Do you know where that’s at?”

“Yes, that’s very near Fresno in fact,” I smiled, amazed that anyone in England had ever heard of the tiny town of Hanford.

Soon Brian had the tea ready, and the question and answer session between Brian’s parents and me continued on for at least two hours, during which time we drank more tea and ate more English biscuits than was probably healthy. I told Brian’s parents all about my hometown, what my parents were like, and what I’d been studying at Stanford before I decided to come to London to work on my degree in 19th century studies. It turned out that Brian’s mom was also fond of Jane Austen, and told me all about how she’d read her novels as a girl. Brian’s dad questioned his son about whether or not he’d done any more work on his doctoral thesis, and I noticed that neither of his parents asked or said much about Queen. Ruth did ask at one point, though, how Brian’s friends Roger, Freddie and John were getting on, to which Brian answered casually that everyone was fine.

“I have to say, son, that your flat looks very neat and tidy today,” Ruth mentioned just before taking a sip of tea.

“We were just straightening things up before you got here,” Brian admitted. It seemed that, like me, he found it difficult to be dishonest.

“Don’t tell me you helped him clean up his flat,” Ruth smiled at me.

“It was no trouble,” I shrugged.

“This one’s a keeper, Brian,” Harold said. “Pretty, smart, and she doesn’t mind cleaning up after you.”

Brian looked at me and laughed and said, “Yeah, I think I might just keep this one around for a while.”

“Why don’t the two of you come over for dinner tomorrow night?” Ruth asked.

If there was one thing I knew about the English, it was that Sunday dinner was a big deal, so I assumed that this meant that they genuinely liked me.

“What do you think?” Brian asked me. “Do you have any school work or anything that you have to do tomorrow?”

“Nothing that can’t wait,” I answered, and it was immediately settled that we would be having dinner with his parents the following night. 

It was such a relief to me that Brian’s parents seemed to like me, and that I very much liked them, and it felt wonderful to be in a family atmosphere again, something that I hadn’t realized until that moment how much I’d been missing in my life. It was also obvious, though, how much Harold and Ruth loved and doted upon their son, and I just hoped that I could possibly live up to their high expectations for him.


	32. Chapter 32

After Brian’s parents left I began to panic slightly about dinner the following day. I was worried about what kind of food I was going to have to eat for starters. After all, the British weren’t exactly famous for their culinary delights. I was seriously hoping that Brian’s mother didn’t set a heaping plate full of haggis in front of me and expect me to eat it. It didn’t sound like the sort of thing that Brian would have grown up eating, but it was England, and you just never knew. And then there was the fact that my table manners weren’t exactly impeccable. Sitting in front of a television eating take-out day after day didn’t really lend itself to knowing which fork was the “proper” fork to use, and if elbows on the table weren’t correct etiquette, then I was doomed for sure.

If nothing else, I at least wanted to look like a proper young lady worthy of dating Harold and Ruth May’s one and only beloved son, and somehow I didn’t think my usual ensemble of rock ‘n’ roll t-shirt, jeans and ratty sneakers was going to cut it. As I thought about every article of clothing that I possessed, nothing seemed to be right for the occasion. Everything I owned was either too casual or too frumpy. I decided then and there that it was time to call on Freddie for some advice. If we were still on speaking terms, that was.

“Feel like going shopping?” I asked Brian as we cleared away the empty teacups and biscuit plates from his coffee table and walked them into the kitchen.

“Shopping?” Brian asked, giving me a slightly bemused look. “For what?”

“Clothes,” I said simply. “I want to make a good impression on your parents tomorrow night, and I don’t have anything to wear.”

“The only thing you need to do to make a good impression on my parents is to be your sweet beautiful self,” Brian smiled, wrapping his arms around me in a warm embrace as I gently placed a couple of teacups in his kitchen sink.

I smiled up at him, wrapping my arms around his waist, and shrugged, saying, “Still. Things are different over here than they are in the States. I mean, look at the way your parents were dressed today. Your dad had on slacks and a nice shirt, and your mom had a very lovely dress on.”

“Yes, but they’re from a different generation. You can’t compare the way they dress to the way you dress. I mean, I can’t quite imagine my mum looking as good as you do in a Led Zeppelin t-shirt and jeans.”

I laughed over the thought and said, “I don’t know! Maybe I should take your mom shopping with me one of these days!”

“No, please!” Brian cried, making a face at me. “I really don’t want to think about my mum in tight jeans!”

“Okay, okay,” I laughed. “But I’d still like to find something nice to wear for tomorrow regardless. Think we could pay Freddie a visit over at Kensington Market? It’s Saturday, he should be there, right?”

“Freddie? Really? You are a glutton for punishment, aren’t you?” Brian laughed.

“He’ll be able to help me find the right kinds of things to wear,” I shrugged.

“Personally, I don’t think you need any help at all,” Brian said with sincerity. “But, if it will make you happy, then we’ll go.”

I flashed Brian a big smile and stood on my tiptoes to give him a quick kiss. We gathered up my purse and his wallet and keys and headed out into the comparatively warm and sunny April afternoon, cars and people zooming this way and that, as we traversed the relatively short distance to Kensington Market on foot.

Brian interlaced his fingers with mine as we walked, and it felt wonderful to be out and about with him and not have to hide the fact that we were in love. We strolled along at a leisurely pace talking about an odd assortment of things from our childhood fears to things we’d collected over the years and everything in between. It turned out that we both had some pretty bizarre fears as children, with Brian being afraid of a wooden chair in his bedroom, and me being afraid of a picture book that had a drawing of a deflated pool toy hanging from a tree branch. We both collected and revered records by our favorite artists of course, and Brian, as it turned out also had a collection of cheese wrappers and matchbox tops, while I had a collection of Matchbox toy cars as well as a collection of rocks that I’d picked up on my various travels as a kid, each labeled with the date and place where it had been found. It was becoming more and more apparent all the time that I’d finally found someone whose geekiness rivaled my own, and I was blissfully happy because of it!

It only took about fifteen minutes to get to the market and up the stairs to the third floor where Freddie and Roger’s stall was located. I realized that I hadn’t been to the place since the fashion show, and I couldn’t help but feel a slight pang over the memories associated with that particular day, not to mention meeting Roger for the very first time not long before that. Visions of Roger with Freddie’s tea spilled down the front of his jeans sprang to mind, and I couldn’t help but feel bad about the way that things had ended with us. I tried to dispel the depressing thoughts from my head as best as I could, and squeezed Brian’s hand a little tighter as we walked down the third floor corridor to find Freddie.

We entered the stall still holding hands as Freddie stood behind the counter counting out the money in his cash register.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the couple of the year,” Freddie said in a snide tone, glancing up at us briefly before dropping a handful of change into the register drawer. “So, you two are officially official, eh?”

“Yes, yes, we all know you were pulling for Roger, but the better man won in the end,” Brian replied in an equally acidic tone. 

I hadn’t really realized how much lingering animosity there would still be between Brian and Freddie over everything that had happened, and to be honest, I suppose I’d never really realized how much Freddie had actually been rooting for my relationship with Roger to succeed. Brian had mentioned something about Freddie always being our “champion” at my flat after we’d come back from Hampshire, but I didn’t fully understand until that moment how serious he was. Upon reflection, perhaps it was too soon to be visiting Kensington Market.

“Speaking of your partner in crime,” Brian went on, “where is Roger?”

“He stayed true to his word and went to visit his mum and sister in Truro,” Freddie replied. “Said he’d be gone for a few days or so.”

“Is he okay?” I asked tentatively, not really sure why I felt the need to ask.

I expected Freddie to either say something dripping with sarcasm or downright rude to me, but instead, he surprised me by giving me a thoughtful look, and saying, “He’s fine. Or at least, he will be.”

The awkward silence that followed was deafening.

“So what brings you two in today anyway?” Freddie asked at last, shutting his register drawer with a snap.

“Well, remember how I told you a while back that I wanted you to go shopping with me one of these days?” I asked uncertainly.

“Yes,” Freddie replied, quirking an eyebrow in my direction.

“Well, do you have any time today?” I asked hopefully. “I’m going with Brian to his parents’ place for dinner tomorrow night, and I need something nice to wear.”

“Hmm, dinner with the family already, eh?” Freddie asked in surprise. “You two don’t waste any time, do you? I suppose I could help you find something… And actually, I think I know just the place. A friend of mine has some beautiful dresses downstairs. Let me just close up the shop and we can go.”

He reopened the cash register, took the money out and shoved it into his pockets. He put a few things away that were lying on the counter, shut off all the lights, then led us out into the corridor, closing up the doors to his stall and locking them securely before leading the way down to the next level of the market.

“It’s a married couple that run this stall,” Freddie explained as we shuffled down the stairs. “Their names are Dave and Barbara. They sell absolutely gorgeous stuff.”

We found the stall in question, and Freddie was right. All the clothes inside were adorable. They had mini skirts, maxi dresses, peasant blouses, and an array of other trendy clothing. I found myself wondering how I’d missed such an amazing place on my first trip to Kensington.

Two dresses immediately caught my eye as Freddie and I rummaged through the clothes on the racks. One was an adorable peach colored knee-length dress with a sheer white overlay that had a small floral pattern. It had a gathered empire waistline and long slightly puffed sleeves that were gathered at the wrists. The other dress was a long, sleeveless maxi dress made of a white fabric with a light aqua colored paisley print. I held each of them up for Freddie to examine, and he loved them both, although he was a little concerned over whether or not a maxi dress would work for someone of my short stature.

I went into the dressing room to try each of them on, and had to practically shove Freddie away to keep him from following me in. Poor Brian, meanwhile, was relegated to being the “purse holder” as he waited patiently for Freddie and me to finish playing dress up. I put on the peach dress first, and came out to show the guys, getting the thumbs up from both of them. The maxi dress was a little long, but Freddie seemed to think that that was okay.

“We’ll just have to go buy you some high-heeled shoes to go with it, darling, then it will be perfect,” he said enthusiastically.

I bought both dresses, since I couldn’t decide between them, and then it was off to another stall that Freddie wanted to show me. This one sold shoes, and in a matter of seconds, Freddie had picked out the perfect pair to go with both dresses.

“Oh, look at these,” he said, holding up a pair of white strappy sandals with a high heel. “These would go with either dress.”

“Yes, but will I be able to walk in them without breaking my neck. That is the million dollar question,” I said dubiously.

“Well try them on, darling, and let’s see,” Freddie urged.

I found my size and did as Freddie asked, and they weren’t as bad as I thought they’d be. They had a slight platform sole to them, so the heels weren’t quite as high as they initially seemed. In the end, I decided to take them, and even found a cute white purse to go with them.

I figured that that was probably it for our afternoon of shopping, since I’d found a suitable outfit for Brian’s parents house, but Freddie, it seemed, had other ideas. He took me into another stall that was down on the ground floor where they sold all the latest up-to-the-minute fashions, and insisted that I look around. A lot of the stuff was kind of weird, but they had some cute things too. I found a long white halter top with red embroidered flowers at the bottom that I just had to have, along with a floppy brown corduroy newsboy style hat, and a black shirt that looked a bit like a waistcoat, that had a very low-cut back which dipped all the way down to my waistline. Freddie approved of all of my choices, and then held up a couple of pairs of hot pants for my perusal, one in white and one in denim with rolled up hems. They were unbelievably short, and quite frankly I was a little worried about my ass showing in the back, but summer was coming up, and I had to admit they were cute. I bought everything in question, and told Freddie that that was enough for one shopping excursion. 

“Oh fine, dear, but we’re going to have to do this again sometime,” Freddie smiled, standing next to me at the register. “You’re fun to play dress up with.”

“You’re like my very own Henry Higgins,” I laughed, stuffing my wallet back into my purse before taking my shopping bag from the cashier.

“Give me a week and I can pass you off as a duchess at an embassy ball,” Freddie teased.

He turned serious then, as we moved away from the register slightly, and did a quick glance out of the corner of his eye to see where Brian was. Brian was several feet away looking at rack of necklaces he realized.

“Darling, are you sure about this whole relationship with Brian?” Freddie asked me quietly, leaning closer to my ear.

“Of course I am,” I scowled. “Why would you ask me something like that?”

“I just don’t think it’s fair what you’ve done to Roger,” Freddie replied. “And the two of you were so beautiful together. I was looking forward to all the gorgeous little blonde babies the two of you were going to have one day, you know.”

“Yeah! As if Roger was ever going to settle down long enough to be a dad!” I scoffed.

“He talked about it you know,” Freddie continued on, lowering his voice even further. “Having kids with you I mean, someday down the road. He told me himself one day how beautiful he thought your kids would be and how you’d make a great mum.”

I just shook my head at the ground disbelievingly. No matter how heartfelt Roger’s intentions for the future might have been, I had a very hard time believing that he’d ever be capable of fully settling down. How could he possibly flirt with all the beautiful girls in the world if he was bogged down with a wife and kids for God’s sake?

“No, Freddie,” I said, looking back up into his piercingly dark eyes. “I made the right choice, believe me. Brian loves me in a way that Roger never could. So I guess you’ll just have to settle for cute little curly haired babies instead.”

“Curly haired babies?” Brian questioned as he approached Freddie and me. “Who’s having curly haired babies?”

“No one,” I blushed, looking away quickly. 

The last thing that I needed was to scare him to death by making him think that I was already planning our family together! Okay, so secretly I was, but he didn’t need to know that.

I noticed that Brian was holding something small in his right hand, so I motioned my head toward the object and asked, “What’s that?”

“Oh,” Brian replied, holding the item up for Freddie and me to see. “I thought maybe this would go with the long dress you picked out.”

It was a very pretty silver necklace that Brian held, with a small, delicate, teardrop-shaped turquoise stone in the center. I looked up at him and smiled, my heart squeezing in my chest over his thoughtfulness. I flashed Freddie a challenging look as if to say, _“See what I mean? This man loves me!”_ then looked back to Brian and said, “It would go perfectly with it.”

“Well then, I’m going to buy it for you,” Brian replied with a grin, placing it on the counter for the cashier to ring up.

“You’re going to completely spoil me if you’re not careful, you know that right?” I asked Brian, twining an arm around his waist for a quick side hug.

“I wish I could afford something even better than this, believe me,” Brian said humbly, smiling down at me before dropping a kiss on the top of my head.

“Are you kidding me? It’s perfect!” I gushed.

“All right, well, if you two are going to be nauseatingly sweet with each other, then it’s time for me to go,” Freddie griped. Then he snapped his fingers and pointed at Brian as a sudden thought popped into his head. “Oh! Before I go though, do you know who’s going to be at the Marquee on the 9th?”

“Who?” Brian asked.

“Rory Gallagher,” Freddie answered.

“No, is he really?” Brian asked in reply. “God, he hasn’t played there in months! I was wondering when he was going to come back.”

“Who’s Rory Gallagher?” I asked.

Brian looked at me as though I’d spoken a foreign language.

“Really?” he asked me. “You don’t know who Rory Gallagher is?”

I just shrugged and said, “Never heard of him. Should I have?”

“He’s one of Brian’s idols,” Freddie grinned. “He stole a bit of his sound from Rory Gallagher.”

“Well, only his Vox AC30 amp and his treble booster,” Brian confessed. “The rest is all me.” 

“That’ll be £1,10p,” the cashier told Brian as she rang up the necklace.

Brian dug into his pocket and produced a couple of coins, sliding them across the counter. He looked back at me and continued on, “I honestly can’t believe that you’ve never heard of Rory Gallagher. Maybe he wasn’t that popular in the States.”

“Well, he’s playing on the 9th at any rate,” Freddie said. “Mary and I are going if the two of you want to join us.”

“Oh, I’d definitely like to go,” Brian said, holding his hand out as the cashier gave him his change. He looked to me and asked, “What do you think? Are you interested in going?”

“Well, of course!” I grinned. “I mean, I’ve got to see what all the fuss is about with this guy, don’t I?”

“Excellent, it’s settled then,” Freddie said. “I’ll pick up a couple extra tickets for you two and you can pay me back later.”

All was agreed upon, and once the necklace was bagged up and ready to go, the three of us walked back out into the chaos of Kensington High Street, Freddie hailing a cab for the five-minute journey home while Brian and I just walked back to his place.

I offered to make dinner for Brian at my place that night, since his kitchen was so tiny, and told him that he was welcome to spend the night as long as it didn’t feel too weird to have the ghosts of Rogers past still lingering around. He told me that he saw my place as just my place alone, and nothing more, and said that he would love it if I were to make him dinner. 

I gathered up all the things that I had taken to his flat the night before so that I could take them back home, and Brian gathered up a few things of his own, including some clothes, toiletries, etc., along with his acoustic guitar and camera, just in case the mood struck. I loved the fact that we both shared such a passion for capturing memories on film.

We got to my place, and I told him that I needed to walk down to the corner store to pick up a few things. I knew that he preferred vegetarian meals if possible, so I thought of a couple different dinners that I knew how to make without meat, one of which was cheese enchiladas, the other being cheese stuffed pasta shells with a marinara sauce. When I mentioned these choices to Brian, he adamantly told me that I didn’t need to go to any trouble on his behalf, and that he would gladly eat anything that I made him, but I explained to him that I was going to have to learn to cook vegetarian meals eventually, so I might as well start getting the hang of it. The selection at the corner market wasn’t the greatest, and I figured that ingredients for enchiladas would likely be out of the question, but at least I was able to find everything for the stuffed shells.

When it came time for me to make dinner, I found that it was a completely different experience from what I was used to. Roger always sat on the couch watching TV while I cooked for him, but Brian never left my side, insisting on helping me in any way that he could. We stood side by side in my tiny kitchen, going over my recipe for cheese stuffed shells, and I gave him the task of cooking the pasta while I mixed up the filling. Once the pasta was done we each grabbed a spoon to fill the shells with the cheese mixture, and laughed over how many we managed to ruin in the process, before piling them into an oblong metal pan, covering them with sauce, and popping them into the oven to bake.

I had picked up a bottle of wine at the store to go with dinner as well, so Brian and I sat in my living room and drank a glass each while the shells were cooking. He pulled out his guitar and serenaded me with some of my favorite Beatles songs, including _Blackbird_ and _Here, There & Everywhere,_ and I was a lost cause. His voice was so soft and soothing, and he played the guitar so perfectly that I just sat in a complete daze listening to him. It occurred to me at some point that I wanted to remember this moment for the rest of my life, so I ran to my closet to grab my camera, and took some pictures of Brian sitting on my couch with his guitar, giving me that sweet, shy smile that always graced his adorable face.

It didn’t take long before dinner was ready, so I refilled our wine glasses, scooped the shells out of the pan onto a couple of plates, and the two of us snuggled side by side on my couch watching the TV show _Sounds For Saturday,_ featuring The Faces, on BBC Two. Brian was completely engrossed in watching Jeff Beck play guitar, and I had to smile.

“Another favorite of yours I take it?” I asked him.

“Hmm?” he asked, barely able to pull his eyes away from the TV long enough to answer me. “Oh yeah. Jeff Beck is amazing. He’s the guvnor.”

“The guvnor, huh?” I grinned. I couldn’t help but laugh over Brian’s adorable Britishness.

After the show was over, I decided to play dress up and don all the various outfits that I’d purchased earlier in the day. One outfit at a time I tried everything on, having Brian help me with zippers or ties when necessary. He liked everything that I got, and the hot pants in particular seemed to be a favorite, especially when I combined the denim pair with the backless waistcoat shirt.

I walked out of my bedroom sporting that specific combination and said, “Well? What do you think?”

“Um, t-turn around so I can see the back,” was about all Brian could manage.

I just laughed and turned like he asked, wiggling my ass a little for his benefit, before walking over to the couch where he was sitting to give him a kiss. He pulled me into his lap and said, “Do you know the only thing that would make this outfit better?”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“If it was lying on your bedroom floor,” Brian breathed, pulling me toward him for a deeper more passionate kiss.

“I think that could be arranged…” I smiled, coming up momentarily for air.

I slid off of his lap and took him by the hand, leading him into my bedroom where he slowly peeled away what few layers of clothing I had on, kissing every part of my body as he exposed it. It wasn’t long before we were both completely undressed, making love in my bed until late into the night.

I woke up in Brian’s arms the next morning feeling completely at peace. He was lying on his back, gently breathing through his mouth, hair in disarray, and I was snuggled up close to him, left arm wrapped around his body, my head on his chest listening to his heart beating beneath my ear. I found myself wishing that we never had to move a muscle, that we could just stay enveloped in each other’s arms forever.

Eventually though, we were forced to roll out of bed and face the day. I made us some toast, scrambled eggs and coffee for breakfast. We sat at my coffee table eating, and I mentioned to Brian that I felt I was going to have to get some sort of a small kitchen table to have meals at eventually. When it had just been me eating my sad little take-out dinners the couch had been fine, but I felt like the time had come to finally have a more permanent area for food consumption. We both agreed that we might look around the flea markets and jumble sales one day soon, just to see what we could find.

After breakfast Brian went in to take a shower, and laughed when he saw what shampoo I had. I was just about to start brushing my teeth when he popped his wet head out of the shower and said, “You were serious about my shampoo? I can’t believe you went out and bought some!”

“That was day two while you were in Wales,” I giggled. “I couldn’t stop thinking about your hair, so I went to Boots and bought a bottle of your shampoo.”

“You’re mad, you know that?” he smiled, shaking his head. He went back to his shower, and the smell of almonds filled my tiny bathroom, causing me to sigh as I breathed in the scent.

I brushed my teeth and then climbed into the shower with Brian, where we proceeded to take much longer than necessary to actually bathe because we were making out and fooling around for the majority of the time. Eventually we emerged from the shower, smelling clean and fresh, and gathered our clothes up to get dressed. Brian had brought some black bell-bottoms to my place along with a light blue button-down shirt, and I donned my new maxi dress and white shoes. Brian was ready relatively quickly, but being a girl, it took me a bit longer. I showed Brian the shoebox full of photos in my nightstand drawer, and he delighted in looking through them as I dried my hair and put on my make-up. Every so often I had to pause in what I was doing in order to answer a question for him.

“Are these your parents?” he asked.

“Yep, that’s my dad Charlie and my mom Sylvia,” I said.

“Lots of cats and dogs in the photos,” Brian commented.

“Yes,” I laughed. “I grew up with quite a menagerie.”

“Who’s this?” Brian asked.

“Oh, that’s my friend Jennifer,” I replied.

“Is this your house?” 

“Yep, that’s the house I grew up in. My mom and dad still live there.”

“There’s a palm tree in your garden,” Brian remarked.

“Oh yeah, they’re everywhere in Fresno,” I laughed.

“What on earth are you doing here?” Brian asked.

“Oh, that was Halloween a few years ago. My friend Jennifer and I were getting dressed up to go out. I was a dead prom queen and she was a gypsy.”

“A dead prom queen?” Brian asked, looking up at me with a puzzled expression.

“Yeah,” I laughed. “Proms are high school dances in America, and the popular girls are always crowned the prom queen, you know, almost like a beauty pageant or something. Anyway, I guess my costume was my way of sticking it to the popular girls. I thought I looked pretty good though. I used make up to make bloody lesions on my face, and I even blackened out some of my teeth.”

“I can see that,” Brian said, gazing at the photo with a bemused look. “You look like something straight out of an old horror film. I would have been terrified to see you in a dark alleyway!”

“Excellent! That’s what I was going for,” I smiled.

“Would you mind if I took a few of these pictures to my parent’s house tonight?” Brian asked. “Just a few with your house and your family and friends. Maybe not the dead prom queen one though…”

“What, you don’t want your parents to know how weird I am?” I asked, hands on my hips.

“Maybe not just yet,” Brian grinned teasingly.

I laughed and told him that was fine.

After I finished my hair and make up I had Brian help me put on the necklace he’d gotten me the day before, and I took a steadying breath as I looked in the mirror one last time, hoping that I could be poised enough to spend the evening with Brian’s parents and not say or do anything stupid.

“It’s going to be fine, you know,” Brian said reassuringly, wrapping his arms around me from behind, trying to ease my nervous tension. “I could tell yesterday that my parents already love you. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“They’re not going to force me to eat blood pudding, are they?” I asked timidly, gazing at Brian’s reflection in the mirror.

Brian snorted with laughter and said, “Bread pudding, maybe, but not blood pudding.”

“Thank God…” I sighed.

“Come on my darling, my parents won’t bite, I promise,” Brian teased, turning me around to face him. “Besides, I’m anxious for you to see the house that I grew up in.”

The thought of seeing where Brian grew up instantly brought a smile to my face, and suddenly the thought of having dinner with his parents didn’t seem quite so scary knowing that I would be in a place filled with happy memories of Brian’s childhood.

“Ready?” Brian grinned, reaching for my hands and giving them a quick squeeze.

“Ready,” I grinned back.


	33. Chapter 33

The drive into Feltham was much longer than I thought it would be, taking a little over a half an hour to reach from my place. We wound our way through the chaotic streets of London, heading toward the outskirts of town to an area called Hounslow, which, as I discovered, was very near to the place where I had arrived in England just a few months before - Heathrow Airport. We passed by houses, shop fronts and parks, with Brian pointing out various places to me that his family had frequented over the years. The more I learned of the area where he grew up, the more I found myself smiling, as I began to develop a mental picture of Brian’s life in the years before I’d met him.

We turned down a street called Harlington Road, and from there it was just a quick jaunt to the short cul-de-sac that Brian had lived on called Walsham Road. The narrow street was lined with older semi-detached houses, buildings that each boasted two residences apiece and shared a common wall – something I would have called a duplex back home in America. Brian’s house was almost to the end of the road on the right, and we initially drove past it so that Brian could turn around in the cul-de-sac and pull up in front of the house facing the right direction. We parked in front of his neighbor’s house on the left behind a very sensible looking beige colored Ford Cortina, which I assumed belonged to Brian’s parents, and then I was finally able to get a good look at the place.

The house itself was relatively small, with a stone façade gracing the top story and red brick decorating the exterior of the lower floor. A brick chimney with two flues sat directly in the middle of the peaked slate roof between the two houses of Brian’s building, one side of which obviously ended in a fireplace in Brian’s house on the right, and the other side in their neighbor’s house on the left. Pretty white-trimmed bow windows adorned both the first and second stories, and their white front door was enclosed inside of a cute, but tiny, porch, with a brick pathway leading up to it. The Mays had a small well-kept garden in front of their house, which boasted lots of English roses and a short box hedge near the edge of the road. All in all, the house seemed cozy and quaint and very English – and I absolutely loved everything about it!

Brian got out of the car and walked around to the passenger side door to open it for me while I gathered up my purse.

“Hi Sally!” Brian cheerfully called out as I unfolded myself from the passenger seat and shut the car door.

I looked to my right and saw a petite girl with long brown hair watering a flower garden just over the little red brick fence that separated Brian’s house from the building next door.

“Hi Brian! How’ve you been?” the girl called back.

“Good,” Brian replied with a smile. “How’s your mum and dad?”

“Doing all right,” she said. “My mum was just over having tea with your mum a couple of days ago.”

“Some things never change,” Brian laughed. He wrapped a protective arm around my waist and said, “Sally, this is my girlfriend, Carrie. Carrie this is my oldest friend and neighbor, Sally.”

“Nice to meet you,” Sally said, giving me a shy smile.

“Nice to meet you too!” I smiled back. 

She was cute, as English girls went, with big doe-like brown eyes, a pretty smile and a curvy little figure.

“Well, take care, Sal,” Brian said, pushing me gently in the direction of his parent’s front door. “See you soon!”

“Okay, Bri, you too!” Sally called back.

“Sal and Bri?” I teased, quirking my eyebrow at Brian as we entered the front porch of his parent’s house.

“Don’t worry,” Brian laughed. “It’s not like that anymore.”

_“Anymore?”_ I asked.

“I may have asked to her to marry me when we were around five or so,” Brian confessed as he reached out to lightly knock on his parent’s door.

“And did she say yes?” I grinned.

“As I seem to recall, she did,” Brian said a little sheepishly.

“Well, I hope this isn’t still a binding contract,” I laughed.

“After twenty years, I highly doubt it,” Brian said.

“Hello son!” Ruth May greeted enthusiastically as she opened the door. “You know you don’t need to knock! Come in!”

Brian gave his mom a quick kiss on the cheek as we went inside, the smell of fresh baked pie and roasting beef enveloping my senses like a warm hug.

“And don’t you look lovely, Carrie,” Ruth smiled sweetly as she closed the door behind us. “What a pretty dress you have on.”

“Thank you very much,” I replied shyly.

“Well come in and sit down you two,” Ruth went on. “Dinner won’t be ready for another hour or so.”

“Where’s Dad?” Brian asked.

“Oh, tinkering in his workshop as usual, where else?” Ruth teased.

Then, as if on cue, Harold May came wandering into the living room from the hallway leading to the back of the house, wiping his hands on a small, well worn rag.

“Ah, I thought I heard voices,” he drawled.

“Yes, I was just about to come and fetch you,” Ruth told him. “Your son and Carrie have just arrived.”

“I can see that,” Harold replied.

“What were you working on, Dad?” Brian asked.

“Oh, the damn telly has gone out again,” Harold griped. “So I was just replacing a couple of the tubes.”

“Well, come sit down,” Ruth urged us once more, gently shoving Brian’s back and mine toward the sofa sitting in front of the downstairs bow window facing the street.

I took in my surroundings as Brian and I sat close together on the relatively small couch. His parents’ living room was very neat and cozy, with a tiled fireplace gracing the wall to my left along with a small bookcase filled with books, records and photo albums of every shape and size. Relatively modern furniture took up much of the space, with a set of matching chairs and ottomans sitting against the wall opposite that of the couch. Knick knacks and framed photographs sat proudly upon the fireplace mantel and bookcase, and in the corner just to my left, was a slatted-back wooden chair with an old worn square pillow on the seat, on top of which lay a black cat sleeping soundly.

“And who’s this?” I asked, reaching out to gently pet the slumbering kitty.

“That’s Shadow,” Brian smiled.

“Oh, I’ve heard about you,” I cooed, scratching the cat behind his ears as he gave me a slightly irritated look that told me in no uncertain terms that I was disturbing his precious sleep.

Brian’s parents took the two chairs across from the couch, and Brian began chattering away with them about anything and everything as I listened quietly, feeling completely awkward and unsure of what to do with myself. As I soon learned though, the May’s next-door neighbors had recently purchased a new car with a state of the art defroster for the back window that Harold was quite envious of. Ruth’s sister, Helen, meanwhile, had recently been sick with a very nasty cold, as had her husband Jeffery, but thankfully they’d both recovered. And Heathrow airport was noisier than ever, according to Brian’s parents, with more and more flights taking off and landing everyday, as I soon found out when a jet zoomed low over their house, rattling the windows in the process.

“Poor Carrie probably isn’t used to all this noise,” Harold said, looking at me with an apologetic smile.

“Dad, she lives in London,” Brian laughed. “I think she’s used to noise.”

“Actually,” I began quietly, “I’m sort of used to noise from airports. Well, not an airport this big, I suppose, but I did grow up near Fresno’s airport, so I’m used to hearing planes and helicopters and things.”

“So what kind of neighborhood did you grow up in?” Ruth asked me.

“You know, we actually brought some photos with us,” Brian reminded me, so I dipped into my purse and pulled out the small stack of pictures, passing them around to his parents one at a time.

Harold and Ruth were fascinated with the style of the house that I grew up in, which I told them was a relatively plain ranch style and very typical for Fresno, and like their son, they were also amazed that there was a palm tree in the front yard. They thought that my parents looked like very nice people, and asked me again what their names were and what they did.

“Charlie and Sylvia,” I explained. “My dad works for a company called United Parcel Service as a manager, and my mom is a homemaker.”

I knew how important being well educated was to Brian’s parents, and I was a little worried that they might think less of me when they found out that my dad didn’t have a job that required a college education. If it did bother them at all, then they were too kind to mention it. Besides, I thought to myself, my family did okay. We weren’t hillbillies, we had all of our teeth, and my parents were able to pay for me to go to college, so I had nothing to be ashamed of.

Once all of my pictures had been pored over and every question had been answered, it was time to embarrass Brian with a few old May family photos. Ruth, being the typical proud mother that she was, got up and went to the bookcase in the corner in order to hunt down a couple of old photo albums, then walked over to Brian and me, telling Brian to scoot over on the couch so that she could sit between us, as she immediately started regaling me with pictures of her precious son as he was growing up.

“Oh mum,” Brian sighed, turning slightly pink around the ears. “You had to bring out the photos already?”

“Of course,” Ruth answered with a bright smile, then flipped through the pages until she found a few of Brian as a baby. She turned to me, displaying the page with obvious pride as she said, “Now, this is Brian when he was only about nine months old, sitting in his pram. And here’s another of him holding his favorite Teddy.”

“You were adorable!” I grinned at Brian, leaning forward slightly so that I could see him past his mom. “And your hair was straight!”

“Yes, his hair didn’t start to curl until he was much older,” Ruth explained before Brian had the chance. “And he fought it tooth and nail, believe me. He hated it when his hair started to curl. He wanted it to look like Elvis’ hair or The Everly Brothers.”

I could see what Ruth meant as she went forward in time to photographs of Brian in his youth, his hair cut short on the sides and the top slicked back in an attempt to tame those naturally curly locks of his. He looked so cute posing for pictures with his mom at the beach, or with his dad outside in the family’s garden, that I thought my heart might burst from cuteness overload. Although, I had to admit, I was glad that at some point he had come to terms with his curls and let them have free reign. Brian just wasn’t Brian without those crazy curls.

After I had seen Brian’s life story in pictures, Ruth declared that it was time for dinner, and employed Brian and me to set the table for her. Their kitchen and dining area was located toward the back of the house, and was every bit as cozy and tidy as their living room was.

Dinner itself consisted of traditional English fare, with roast beef, mashed potatoes and buttered peas providing the main courses, and a freshly made rhubarb pie following up for dessert. Brian, I noticed, just picked at the roast beef, but ate plenty of everything else. After all of my worrying and fretting over what Brian’s parents would feed me, I had to admit that Ruth was an excellent cook, and the food was delicious.

After dinner I helped Ruth clear away the dirty dishes and take them into the kitchen while Brian went out into the back yard with his dad to see his father’s new plans for the vegetable garden. It turned out to be a lovely evening all in all, and Brian’s mom even gave me a quick hug as we were getting ready to leave. It made me happier than I could possibly express that I seemed to have won the approval of my boyfriend’s parents.

Brian and I went back to my place then and I was more than happy to get out of my new shoes and dress and put on my old pair of P.E. shorts and a t-shirt. I told Brian that he was welcome to stay, but that I did have a bit of homework to get caught up on for school.

“I don’t want to bother you if you need to concentrate,” Brian said, as we snuggled up together on my couch.

“I’ve just got to study for some tests tomorrow,” I shrugged.

“Do you want me to go?” Brian asked.

“Not really,” I replied. “But I don’t want you to be bored either while I’m going over my notes.”

“I’m never bored when I’m with you,” Brian said, reaching over to gently run a finger along my arm. “If you have a book or something that I could read, then I can stay out of your hair, if that’s all right with you.”

I snorted with laughter and said, “Have you seen how many books I have?” as I pointed toward my large bookshelf in the corner of the living room. “I’m not sure if any of them will be quite to your taste though. It’s mostly romance novels or Jane Austen stuff, although, I do have a copy of a science fiction time travel novel that you might like called _Up The Line_ by Robert Silverberg.”

“I’ve heard of that book. Is it any good?” Brian asked.

“I couldn’t tell you,” I said. “I picked it up at a yard sale back home because I’ve always been fascinated by time travel, and I’ve been meaning to read it for about the last year or so and can’t ever seem to find the time.”

I got up and walked to the bookshelf and found the book in question in a matter of seconds, handing it to Brian. He looked it over and read the plot summary on the back cover before saying, “Yeah, this looks pretty good.”

I gathered up my school work and books and sat at one end of the couch, leaning my back against the arm, while Brian slouched against the opposite corner of the couch, already engrossed in page one of the novel. 

I sat Indian-style, textbook in my lap, shuffling through my handwritten notes and mumbling quietly to myself, as I occasionally stared off into space, trying to memorize something I’d written down. It wasn’t long before my gaze drifted of its own accord to Brian, whose face was barely visible over the edge of his book, and my notes were momentarily forgotten. I stared at his eyes and the bridge of his nose as he read, and found myself struck yet again over how attractive he was. I had always found him attractive from the second I’d met him, I knew now, though I just hadn’t been able to admit it to myself. I couldn’t help but wonder how different things might have been over the past few weeks if I’d only met him first.

After several seconds, he realized that I was watching him, and gazed at me over the top of the book with a slightly bemused expression on his face.

“Aren’t you supposed to be studying?” he asked with a smile.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. I’m studying,” I said, looking back down at my notes. It wasn’t a complete lie. I was studying. It just so happened that I was studying my boyfriend’s beautiful face rather than my notes.

“Oh, by the way, before I forget,” Brian began. “Did Roger usually take you to and from school?”

“Yeah, he did,” I replied. “Why’s that?”

“Just wanted to let you know that I’ll gladly do the same for you if you want me to,” Brian answered with a slight shrug.

“I would love that,” I smiled.

“And I was thinking that maybe tomorrow I could take you by one of my favorite places in London after you’re done with school,” Brian said. “It’s an outdoor market called Portobello Road.”

“That sounds fun,” I answered. “What kind of stuff do they sell there?”

“A bit of this and that, really,” Brian replied. “Sometimes I’ll find some old stereo cards to add to my collection.”

Brian’s passion for Victorian era stereo photography was something I was just beginning to learn about him. He’d shown me a few of the cards from his massive collection, and had even promised me that he could show me how to take my own stereo photos if I wanted to. This was something that I was indeed eager to learn. I knew a little about stereo photography, and the way that looking at two images side by side on a stereo card through a viewer produced a three-dimensional image, but I didn’t know nearly as much as Brian did. It amazed me to find that something he’d been passionate about for so long seemed to fit right into my little 19th century world. It was kind of ridiculous at times how much we were alike, without even knowing it.

“I’m really looking forward to it now,” I said. “I love looking through other people’s old treasures.”

“Me too,” Brian grinned.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Brian dropped me off at school the next morning, and I was so looking forward to spending the afternoon with him at the Portobello Road market, that I wanted my classes to be over with before they’d even begun. Besides the tests that I had to take, which I didn’t really feel fully prepared for, I seemed to notice a lot of sidelong glances from my fellow students every time I walked through the halls. Annie explained to me that apparently word was starting to spread about my love triangle with two of the members of Queen. 

“I don’t think you realize how famous you’ve become,” Annie told me, as we sat together between classes.

“Famous? Me?” I questioned, shaking my head. “Why?”

“A lot of people know Queen,” Annie shrugged. “They’ve gotten quite a following around London, and for everyone here at King’s College to find out that one of their fellow classmates has been having an affair with the drummer _and_ the guitarist…”

“How do they even know?” I demanded.

“Not from me, I can promise you that,” Annie replied, holding a hand to her heart. “I’ve got a feeling that Gwen and Olivia might have been spreading a bit of gossip though.”

“Well that’s just great,” I griped, regretting that I’d ever invited them to the party. “As if I’m not having a difficult enough time dealing with school.”

By the time the end of the day rolled around, I was more than ready to get away from everyone. The sight of Brian waiting for me in his Mini felt like just the medicine that I needed, even though I couldn’t help but notice a few more stares as I climbed into the passenger seat.

“Ready for Portobello Road?” Brian asked cheerfully.

“Am I ever!” I replied, leaning in to give him a kiss.

It was further away from King’s College than I’d realized, and took us about twenty minutes to get there. I certainly wasn’t complaining though. I was away from school for the rest of the day, and I got to see lots of stuff along the way that I’d been dying to see since I’d been in London, including parts of Mayfair and Hyde Park. A few clouds were starting to roll in by the time that Brian found a parking place, but they didn’t look very threatening, so off we went, hand in hand, making our way toward the throngs of buyers and sellers along Portobello Road.

It reminded me a lot of an American flea market, with people selling everything from fruits and vegetables to clothing, household goods and everything in between. One seller had the latest Elton John album blaring through speakers as he hawked a variety of cassettes and 8-track tapes, and next to him was a man selling an assortment of exotic birds in cages, one of which was bobbing it’s head along to the Elton John music, making Brian and I laugh.

We wound our way further along to a slightly less chaotic part of the market where antiques and household goods were primarily being sold, and Brian greeted a seller that he obviously knew quite well.

“Colin!” Brian exclaimed. “How are you today, mate?”

“Can’t complain, Brian, can’t complain,” answered this Colin character with a somewhat toothless Cockney accent.

“Any new stereo cards?” Brian asked him.

“I do have a few new ones, in fact. Been waitin’ for you to come by,” Colin replied, reaching under a table to pull out a shoebox of odds and ends, which included a stack of stereo cards. “It’s more o’ them French devil cards.”

“Diableries? Really?” Brian asked enthusiastically.

I peeked over Brian’s shoulder and realized that the stereo cards he was talking about featured little skeletons who seemed to be having adventures in hell. They were a bit odd, but interesting at the same time. I knew that Brian had a fondness for unusual things, so they seemed to be right up his alley.

The sky was becoming darker and cloudier by the minute, as I turned to look around at some of the other nearby stalls. There was one about twenty feet away that caught my eye, and I told Brian that I was going to walk over and check it out while he continued chatting with his friend.

The seller had a wide array of household goods, and I instantly noticed a few mismatched pieces of china that I thought were pretty. I lifted up a small round candy dish that was white with gold trim and decorated with what appeared to be an oriental floral design, with a blue and yellow bird perched on a branch near the center. I turned it over and read that it was a reproduction of an 18th century china pattern by the Aynsley Company called “Pembroke”. It was no wonder why I liked it. The seller had a teapot, a few teacups and saucers and the candy dish, all in the same pattern.

“How much for all the Aynsley dishes?” I asked the lady sitting behind the table.

“Including the teapot, I couldn’t take less than £2 for the lot,” the lady replied.

It seemed like a fair price, so I told the lady that I’d take them. After all, I was living in England now, and I didn’t even have a proper tea set. Then again, I also didn’t have a proper kitchen table to serve the tea on in the first place! That’s when I realized that in the back of this woman’s stall was, in fact, a cute rectangular wooden table with four slatted-back chairs around it. It was so piled with various bric-a-brac for sale, that I hadn’t noticed it at first.

“Are the table and chairs for sale?” I asked.

“They are,” the lady confirmed, as she wrapped my china pieces in newspaper and placed them carefully into a paper grocery bag. “I’m asking £5 for the set.”

“£5, huh?” I asked, stepping around an ottoman and a fireplace screen to get to it. It was an older table and chair set, and somewhat chipped and battered here and there, but it was made of solid wood and looked as though it still had a lot of life left in it.

“That’ll be £2, please,” the lady said, holding out my bag of china toward me.

“Oh, right…” I said absentmindedly, digging in my purse for a couple of one-pound coins and placing them in the lady’s hand before taking my bag from her.

“Cheers!” she said, plunking the coins into a metal cash box.

“Listen, I’ll be right back,” I said. “I’m going to have my boyfriend come over and look at the table.”

The lady nodded at me somewhat dismissively, and turned to help another customer as I ran off to fetch Brian, who was still chatting with Colin when I found him.

“Hey you,” I said, tugging at his sleeve.

Brian looked down at me and saw that I was holding an entire paper bag filled with newspaper wrapped items, and looked slightly taken aback, asking, “What on earth did you buy?”

“Some 18th century reproduction china,” I grinned.

“You know, you’re starting to scare me a bit,” Brian said. “I think you’ve been spending too much time with Freddie.”

The low rumble of thunder sounded from somewhere not too far in the distance.

“See, even the Gods think you’re turning into Freddie,” Brian teased.

“I’m not turning into Freddie!” I laughed. “But there’s something I want you to come over and see when you’re finished here.”

“Ah, I’m all done,” Brian said, holding up a flat paper bag that obviously contained several stereo cards, which he slid into his jacket pocket. “I was just chatting with Colin for a bit.”

“Well, come on then, there’s something I want to show you,” I said eagerly, reaching for his hand and tugging on it slightly.

“My woman is beckoning, Colin,” Brian grinned at his friend. “I’ll see you next time, yeah?”

“I’ll be here,” Colin replied.

I led Brian off to the stall where I’d purchased my china, and said, “Look! This lady’s got a table and four chairs for sale.”

“Ah, she certainly does…” Brian mumbled quietly, stepping around the other items for sale, just like I’d done, so that he could get a better look. He rapped on the tabletop and nodded his head in approval, then wiggled each table leg, noticing that one was slightly loose. A few of the slats in the chair backs were also loose, but overall he felt that the whole set was well made and that the things that needed to be fixed were relatively minor. He got the lady’s attention that was running the stall, and asked, “How much for the table and chairs?”

“£5,” the woman replied.

“Would you take £4 for it?” Brian countered.

Suddenly I felt one raindrop on my face, then two, and then the next thing we knew, it was seriously starting to come down.

“Ugh!” the woman practically growled at the sky. She looked at Brian and said, “That’s fine, but you’re going to have to take it now, because it looks like I’m going to have to pack it in for the day.”

I quickly reached into my purse and pulled out my wallet, sliding a £5 note out of the folds and handing it to the woman, who in turn, gave me back one of the £1 coins that I’d given her for the china.

“How are we getting this back to my place?” I asked Brian, the rain turning from a sprinkle to a deluge.

Brian looked at the lady running the stall and asked, “Is there a phone around here?”

“Right in front of the Indian take-away,” the woman replied, motioning toward the other side of the street, as she began to frantically pack up her items.

“Stay here,” Brian told me, rainwater already dripping from his hair. “I’m going to go call John Harris and see if he can bring the van over.”

I watched as Brian ran across the street to the nearest pay phone, then looked around me at all the smart people opening up their umbrellas, wondering why the hell it was that after three months in England I had yet to learn that I needed to carry one of the damn things with me!

Brian came running back a couple minutes later, already looking soaked through, and said that John Harris was on his way with a friend of his named Dan. The two of us, meanwhile, helped the lady that we’d bought the table from move all of the clutter off of it while we waited.

It seemed to take forever for John Harris to show up, and by the time he did, Brian and I were completely drenched from the rain, our hair dripping and plastered to our faces.

John pulled up next to where we were standing in Portobello Road, and leaned across his friend in the passenger seat to yell out the window, “What the hell are the two of you doing out here in this weather??”

“Playing checkers, obviously!” Brian shouted back sarcastically.

“Man, you owe me for this one!” Harris laughed.

“Fine, fine, I owe you,” Brian said with a dismissive wave. “Now can you help us load this thing?”

The three men hoisted the table and chairs into the back of the van while I clung onto my bag of china, which was now soggy from the rain, and soon they were swinging the back doors of the van shut, Brian telling John and his friend to meet us at 25 Henrietta Street.

Brian and I hurried down Portobello Road to his waiting car, thankful for the dry interior as we slid inside, dripping all over the seats and floorboards.

“Why do I feel like life with you is always going to be an adventure?” Brian grinned at me, shoving the wet hair out of his face.

“Isn’t that a good thing?” I laughed, my teeth chattering from the cold.

John Harris arrived at my place shortly after Brian and I did, parking right behind Brian’s Mini in front of the coffee shop below my flat. I had trudged up the stairs to unlock the door, depositing my purse and bag of china on the kitchen counter while I waited for the guys to haul everything up. Maneuvering the wet table up the narrow stairs inside my building proved to be somewhat tricky, but eventually, I had a brand new table and chair set sitting in the once empty space between my kitchen and living room. Well, the table and chair set was new to me, at any rate, and once the guys had it settled in, it looked as though it was just made for the spot.

“Thank you so much John!” I exclaimed. “Can the two of you stay? I’d be happy to make you dinner for all your trouble.”

“No, we’ve actually got plans with some mates tonight,” John replied. “Thanks though! Maybe we’ll take you up on that another time.”

Brian and I thanked both guys one last time, and then said our goodbyes, quietly shutting the door behind them as they left. Brian turned to me then, his arms folded tightly across his chest for warmth, asking me as he nodded toward the table, “Well, what do you think? Is it a good fit?”

“It’s perfect!” I exclaimed, still shivering in my wet clothes.

“Is it cold in here, or is it just because we’re soaking wet?” Brian asked me, shivering every bit as much as I was.

“It must be the wet clothes,” I replied, knowing that the heating was on in my flat. I felt a twinge in the back of my nose then, and let out a series of massive sneezes.

“Lord, you don’t sound good,” Brian said, walking toward me with a worried look. He was sniffling, I noticed, and his face looked paler than usual. He bent down to give me a quick kiss and said, “You’d better go change out of those wet clothes.”

His lips felt warmer than usual to me. “Let me see you…” I said, reaching up to feel his forehead. Sure enough, he felt like he had a fever. “You’re warm.”

“I sure as hell don’t feel warm,” Brian said, still shivering, and then he too let out two massive sneezes in a row. He looked at me, slightly droopy eyed, and said, “I don’t know about you, but I don’t think I’m feeling so great.”


	34. Chapter 34

The next morning I woke up flat on my back, feeling like I’d been run over by a truck. Every muscle in my body ached, my nose was completely congested, and my throat felt sore and raw. I became aware of a snorting, snuffling sort of sound to my right, and looked over to find Brian also lying on his back, mouth open, snoring like I’d never heard him snore before. His hair was damp and plastered to his clammy skin, and the end of his nose looked red. I gently reached over to feel his forehead with the back of my hand, and there was little doubt that he was still running a fever.

I assumed that it was still early in the morning, but when I looked at the clock on my nightstand, I saw that it was in fact already ten o’clock. I bolted upright, aware that I’d already completely missed my first class at school, and then instantly fell back onto my pillow with a splat.

“Oh God…” I mumbled, grabbing hold of my head. The room was spinning slightly, and it felt like someone had been pounding on my brain for most of the night.

“Hmm? What’s going on?” Brian asked, his voice sounding hoarse, as he opened his eyes and tried to focus them.

“I’ve missed school,” I groaned, reaching up to run my hands through my hair and noticing in the process that I too felt warm.

“What time is it?” Brian asked as he attempted to sit up and turn toward the clock. He grunted in pain over the motion, and immediately fell back onto the pillow just as I had moments before. He reached up and wiped his hair back from his sweaty forehead and said, “Fuck. I feel like shit.”

“You too, huh?” I asked.

“What _is_ this stuff?” Brian moaned.

“Some sort of a flu virus I think. And not a very pleasant one judging by the way I’m feeling.”

“Ugh,” Brian groaned, reaching up to cover his mouth and nose as he coughed and spluttered before letting out a violent sneeze.

“Bless you,” I said before belting out a couple of sneezes of my own. “What are we going to do? I need to be at school. I’ve already missed enough with the trip to Brighton.”

“I don’t think either of us is going to be going anywhere today,” Brian sniffled. “Your professors are just going to have to understand. Besides, it sounds like it’s still raining. If you go out in weather like this you’re going to catch your death.”

“Great. I’m going to fail all of my classes,” I whined.

“You’re not going to fail your classes,” Brian said reassuringly. “Call Annie and tell her to share her notes with you. You’ll be fine. In the meantime, I don’t suppose you have any aspirin, do you?”

My flat, unfortunately, was very poorly stocked for such a dire viral emergency. I was able to find Brian some aspirin, and even took a couple myself, but we also needed things like tissues and cough drops and chicken soup.

I made us a quick breakfast of tea and toast, and we got to try out the new kitchen table for the first time. Brian may have been sick, but he wasn’t too sick to fidget with the loose leg on the table the entire time that we ate.

“That’s really going to bother me,” Brian said at last. “I’ve got to fix it, or it’s going to drive me mad.”

“But you’re sick, sweetie,” I said, taking a soothing sip of hot tea. “Worry about it when you’re better.”

“I’m not feeling so bad that I can’t tinker with your new table,” Brian told me. “In fact, it would give me something to do. The trouble is that my tools are all the way at my parents’ house, and I don’t know if I feel like driving out there.”

Brian paused long enough for a bite of toast, reaching out to wiggle the loose slats on the chair sitting next to him.

“I wonder if my dad would mind bringing my tools over?” Brian thought out loud. He turned to me and asked, “Would you mind if my dad came by?”

“I don’t know. Do you think he could bring some tissues, cough drops and chicken soup with him?” I joked.

“No, but my mum would probably love to,” Brian said.

Brian called home and talked to his mom, telling her the whole story of how we’d gotten caught in the rain the day before at the Portobello Road market and ended up sick because of it, and how I’d gotten a kitchen table for my flat that needed to be fixed. He gave her a laundry list of items that he’d really love for her and his dad to bring by if possible, and then told her where I lived. Within a few hours, Harold and Ruth were at my front door. Thankfully they’d given me enough time to tidy my place up a bit.

I opened the door to find Ruth standing in front of me, her arms loaded with what appeared to be a small pile of clothing, and a covered pot sitting on top. Harold stood directly behind her holding a Boots pharmacy bag and a small toolbox. 

“Please come in,” I told them, throwing the door open wide and motioning toward my living room. I looked down at the shabby old sweats that I had on, and said, “I’m sorry that I don’t look a little more presentable at the moment.”

“It’s quite all right, dear,” Ruth said compassionately. “I hear you’re not well?”

“I’m afraid neither of us are,” I said, nodding toward Brian as he popped out of the kitchen doorway.

“Hi mum, hi dad,” Brian greeted his parents, giving his mom a kiss on the cheek. He reached for the armload of things that his mom held and took them from her, asking, “What’s all this?”

“Well, you mentioned a change of clothes, so I dug around in your old closet and found some pajamas and t-shirts and things that I thought you could use,” Ruth replied. “And I made a pot of chicken soup for the two of you.”

“Oh, mum, you didn’t need to go to all that trouble,” Brian said, setting the clothes on the table and walking the pot of soup into the kitchen.

“It’s no trouble,” Ruth called after him. “I’m just sorry to hear that you’re not feeling well.”

“We’ll be alright,” Brian called back. “I think it’s some sort of flu.”

“What the hell were the two of you doing buying furniture out in the rain anyway?” Harold asked.

“It wasn’t raining at first,” Brian answered as he walked back into the living room. “It only started after we bought the table and chairs. By that point, we were in for a penny, in for a pound, so I had a friend bring his van by. The sky, unfortunately, decided to open up completely while we waited for him.”

“Please come in and sit down,” I said at last, feeling like a bad hostess for leaving them standing just inside the doorway. “And thank you so much for the soup, that was very kind of you.”

“It’s quite all right,” Ruth smiled, as she followed me into the living room. She turned back to her husband briefly, and said, “Harold, don’t forget their bag of medicine and things.”

“Oh yes,” Harold said, setting the toolbox and Boots bag on my table. He reached into the bag, pulling out each item one at a time, and told Brian, “Your mother wasn’t sure what you might need, so we bought some cough syrup, throat lozenges, tissues and chest rub.”

“Ah, this is perfect, thank you so much mum and dad,” Brian said, walking everything over to the coffee table and setting it down. He motioned toward the couch and said, “Please, sit down, mum.”

“I was just looking at Carrie’s lovely flat,” Ruth said, taking in the contents of my living room, before eventually sitting down at one end of my couch. She smiled at me, as I took a seat at the opposite end of the couch, and said, “You and Brian must share the same taste in music. You have lots of Beatles pictures and things on your walls, just like he does.”

“I think it’s fair to say that we have a lot in common,” I laughed.

“Have you gone to see that band of his play?” Harold chimed in from across the room.

“I have!” I exclaimed. “They’re incredible!”

“She thinks that noise you make is incredible, eh?” Harold mumbled to his son. “Like I told you the other day, this one’s a keeper.”

Brian and I exchanged a quick smile from across the room.

“So, what have we got here? What needs to be fixed?” Harold asked Brian, as he started inspecting the table.

The two of them tinkered with the table and chairs, screwing, nailing and gluing things back into place until the table was good as new. I asked Brian’s parents to stay for dinner as a way to say thank them for their kindness, but Harold said that he’d rather get back home before it got too dark because of the rainy weather. I had to admit that I wasn’t terribly disappointed. I was starting to feel worse as the day wore on, and the thought of entertaining Brian’s parents for dinner sounded exhausting.

Brian and I finally bid them goodbye, thanking them again for everything, then collapsed on my couch with a bowl of delicious home made soup each, as we tuned in to the evening news on TV.

The next day we woke up feeling just as bad, and the rain, I noticed was still coming down. Like it or not, it seemed like I was going to be forced to take a few days off of school. I wrote a short letter to each of my professors, explaining the situation, and had Annie come by my place to pick them up as she left her notes with me to study. I tried my best to keep up with my schoolwork, plugging away at it valiantly in between my occasional naps, and was at least able to make some headway.

Brian called his mom from my place occasionally, just to let her know that he was okay, and likewise, I felt obligated to call my mom as well to let her know how I was doing. I realized too late that this might not have been the best choice. Once my mom found out that I was sick, she was panic stricken, fearing that I was going to end up with pneumonia in the damp English weather. I assured her that I was going to be fine, and that Brian and I were taking excellent care of each other. This brought on an entirely new topic of discussion since it occurred to me that I had yet to tell my mom that I was no longer dating Roger. In the end, what was meant to be a quick check in with my mom ended up being a two hour long conversation. By the time I hung up the phone, I was thoroughly drained.

After a few days spent cooped up in my flat, it was becoming clear to both Brian and me that cabin fever was starting to set in. The couch was starting to feel like a prison cell, and Brian and I found ourselves talking wistfully about the things that we would do once the weather was better and our flu bugs had subsided. 

I woke up a little late on Friday morning to find Brian standing in my living room, gazing out of my window with a lost, far away look in his eyes, as the first sunshine we’d seen in days started peeking through the clouds outside.

“Hey you,” I said. “You’re up early. Feeling better?”

“A bit,” he replied, turning to give me a soft smile. He turned back toward the window and pointed outside, saying, “I didn’t know that you had such a lovely little garden behind your building.”

I walked over to wrap my arms around his waist and followed his gaze.

“Yeah, I’ve noticed that garden,” I replied, squinting into the sunshine, “but I don’t know who it belongs to.”

“Well, it belongs to whomever owns this building,” Brian answered. “And often, the tenants of a building like this will be allowed to share it.”

“Really?” I asked. “I’ve never even been down there. Come to think of it, I don’t think I know how to get down there.”

“There’s probably a door on the ground floor somewhere in the back of your building,” Brian said. He pointed toward an empty patch of dirt to the right side of the garden near the tall stone fence that separated my building’s garden from the next building’s, and went on, “You know, that little bit of land right there would make an excellent vegetable patch.”

“It would, wouldn’t it?” I agreed. “Gosh, I haven’t done any gardening in ages, not since I moved out of my family’s house in Fresno where I used to help my dad out from time to time.”

“Did you grow up helping your dad in his vegetable garden like I did?” Brian asked me with a bright smile.

“I did,” I smiled back.

“It’s funny how we were leading such similar lives five thousand miles apart without even knowing of each other’s existence,” Brian mused, wrapping his arms around my shoulders and turning slightly so that we were facing each other.

“Yes it is,” I agreed, leaning my head against his chest. “So if a person wanted to use part of a garden like that, how would they go about doing it?”

“Just ask your landlord,” Brian answered. “He should be able to tell you whether you can use it or not.”

“Maybe I’ll do that,” I said. “And if I can, then you get to help me with it. You can do all the hard work, like tilling the soil and pulling the weeds.”

“While you get all the glory of planting the seeds and growing things?” Brian teased. “Thanks a lot.”

“Well, I think it’s only fair that whichever one of us has the biggest muscles ought to be the one to tackle all the hard labor, don’t you?” I asked, squeezing his closest bicep with a mischievous gleam in my eye. “Then again, that person might just be me…”

“I beg your pardon??” Brian laughed, reaching lower to wrap his arms around my waist as he lifted me up off of my feet and dragged me away from the window squealing and giggling. 

He playfully tackled me onto the couch, nearly knocking the wind out of me, as I laughed and said, “Okay! Okay! You’re the stronger one! I’ll let you do all the tilling and weeding!”

“Wait a minute,” Brian said with a shake of his head. “Somehow I don’t think I won that argument!”

We both laughed as he bent his head over mine to give me a long overdue kiss. Although we weren’t completely well yet, it felt good to see the beginnings of better health slowly creeping its way back into our lives.

A knock suddenly sounded at the door then, leaving us both perplexed as to who would be stopping by so early. Brian got up to answer it for me, and lo and behold, it was Freddie standing on my doorstep.

“There you are darling!” Freddie exclaimed. “I’ve been trying to call you for days!”

“Carrie and I have both been ill since Monday,” Brian explained. “I’d ask you in, but I’m not sure if you want to take your chances around us right now.”

“Oh, I never get ill, darling, you know that,” Freddie said with a dismissive wave, sauntering into my living room without a care in the world.

I sat up on the couch and casually raked my fingers through my hair, suddenly very aware of what a mess I was after being sick for four days.

As if to reiterate my thoughts, Freddie planted himself next to me and said, “Good lord, dear, you look dreadful. What have the two of you been ill with anyway?”

“Some sort of flu virus,” Brian answered for me, seating himself on the other side of Freddie.

“Well, I hope you’re both going to be feeling better in the next two days,” Freddie said, reaching into his back pocket and brandishing a couple of bits of paper, “because I got each of you a ticket to the Rory Gallagher concert at the Marquee on Sunday just like we agreed to.”

“Oh my God! I nearly forgot about that!” Brian exclaimed. He looked past Freddie to me and said, “I think we’ll be well enough by then, don’t you?”

“Definitely,” I said. “I don’t know about you, but I’m getting tired of being cooped up.”

“Excellent, well you owe me £1, 20p then,” Freddie grinned, handing the tickets over to Brian.

“Yeah, all right,” Brian conceded, getting slowly up off of the couch to wander into my bedroom. “I’ve got it in a trouser pocket around here somewhere…”

“You know, we still need to talk more about this offer from Trident, darling,” Freddie called after Brian. “So much has been going on lately that we haven’t had a chance to go over things.”

“Well, you know how I feel about it,” Brian called back, the sounds of rustling fabric and clinking coins coming from my bedroom. 

“Yes, but I don’t think you’ve given it nearly enough thought,” Freddie argued.

“Believe me, I’ve given it plenty of thought,” Brian replied, wandering back into the living room to hand Freddie his money as he sat back down on the couch. “I just don’t know if I trust these Sheffield blokes. I’ve got a bad feeling about the whole thing.”

“Yes, but it’s not as if we’ve had any other offers,” Freddie said.

“I know, Fred, but trust me, after what Roger and I went through with Mercury Records, the last thing we need is to be roped into a bad contract that we can’t get out of.”

“Well, I think we should go for it, and so does John,” Freddie replied flatly. “What have we got to lose? Our music is certainly never going to get heard at the rate things are going now, and these men are offering us not only a recording contract, but new equipment as well!”

“Well, I couldn’t care less about the new equipment,” Brian said softly, “I’ve got my own guitar and that’s all I need. Although, admittedly, the new PA system they’re offering would be nice. I just don’t know though…”

“The four of us have simply got to get together, soon, and go over the details of the contract so that we can make a decision,” Freddie said adamantly.

“Well, last I heard we were minus a band member,” Brian said. “Is Roger still in Cornwall?”

“Yes, he should be back soon though,” Freddie replied. “And I hope that the two of you are prepared to put recent problems in the past.”

“As far as I’m concerned, I’m fully prepared to let bygones be bygones, as long as Roger is too,” Brian said.

“I certainly hope so,” Freddie said decidedly.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

By the time Sunday rolled around, Brian and I were back to our old selves and more than ready to get out and see the world once again. The fact that the rain and clouds had been swept away and replaced by warmer weather and sunnier skies put a renewed spring in my step. After I’d been slouching on my couch for days on end wearing nothing but old sweats or PJs, I was ready to wear something new and fun, and decided to don the denim pair of hot pants that I’d recently purchased at Kensington Market, along with the black backless waistcoat shirt. I pulled my long hair up into a ponytail, put on my new necklace that Brian had gotten me along with some matching silver hoop earrings, and by the time I got my make up just right, I didn’t think I looked half bad. 

Brian had gone home for a bit so that he could shower and change, and when he arrived back at my place to pick me up, he was stunned by my transformation. 

I was happy to see that he was looking more like himself again too. There was a definite sparkle in his eyes and a glow to his cheeks that I hadn’t seen for a while. He was wearing a skin-tight white long sleeved shirt, which hugged his chest and those adorable man boobs of his a little too well in my opinion, and a pair of equally snug black velvet bell-bottoms. He looked unbelievably sexy, and I felt like we were going to make one hot couple that night.

The Marquee Club, unbeknownst to me, was only about a half mile from where I lived, so Brian and I were easily able to walk the short distance. It amazed me sometimes how many interesting places were within a stone’s throw of my flat that I didn’t even know existed.

We arrived to find Freddie, Mary, John and Veronica just getting out of a cab in front of the club, so Brian called out to them as we approached, and the four of them waited for us to catch up before going inside.

“Well, well! Look at you tonight, you saucy vixen you,” Freddie grinned at me, giving me the once over. “Wearing one of your new outfits I see?”

“Well, the weather warmed up, so I thought I might as well,” I shrugged.

“You’re going to have to keep her on a short leash tonight, darling, with an outfit like that on,” Freddie teasingly said to Brian.

“Yes, I know,” Brian agreed, playfully waggling his eyebrows at me as he wrapped an arm around my shoulder.

The six of us entered the club, laughing and joking and just happy to be out having a good time. We each gave the guy at the front door our tickets, and walked into a small, dark cloakroom area that was filled with people laughing and talking as they checked their belongings. No one from our group had anything that they wanted to leave behind, so we headed down a long narrow corridor that ended with a bar on our left, and the stage area on our right. I was horrified to find that there were actually no seats in the concert hall. It was standing room only, and the place was filling up quickly. The inside of the Marquee wasn’t nearly as big as I thought it would be, especially after Brian had been telling me for the last day and a half how many famous artists had played there over the years. In fact, the place gave me a claustrophobic feeling if I was being honest. The walls were all painted black, except for large stripes and a Marquee logo painted behind the stage, and cigarette smoke hung over the room like a dark cloud. It was stagnant and warm inside, and the thought of being pressed up against a whole room full of hot sweaty strangers while we watched the show, didn’t sound horribly appealing. 

The bar to our left seemed to have an airier feel to it somehow, so I asked Brian if we could sit down and have a drink before the show started. He agreed, and Freddie, Mary, John and Veronica made their way into the concert hall so that they could find all of us a decent spot near the stage before the crowds consumed all the space. 

Brian and I found two empty seats at the bar and ordered a couple of drinks, Brian getting his usual beer and me getting a glass of juice mixed with vodka. We were just laughing a little under our breath at some of the unusual characters that were there to see the show, when a familiar voice caught our attention.

Brian and I were both utterly shocked to see Roger stroll into the bar with not one, but _two_ girls dripping off of his arms. One was tall and thin and pretty, with shoulder length golden brown hair and exotic looking upturned golden brown eyes that matched her hair almost perfectly. The other girl was shorter and curvier with well-rounded breasts and hips and a waterfall of long blonde hair cascading down her back. Roger seemed to be in his height of glory as he smiled and simpered at the girls, asking them if they wanted a drink.

“He looks well,” I said to Brian a little more waspishly than I’d intended.

“I had no idea he was going to be here. Are you going to be okay with this?” Brian asked, flashing me a worried look. “Because if it’s going to make you uncomfortable to see him this soon, then we can go. I won’t be upset, I swear.”

“No, no, no,” I said, lightly touching Brian’s arm. “I know how much you want to see this concert, and I’ll be fine, honest. I’ve got to get used to dealing with this sort of thing eventually, right? And besides…”

I looked back over at Roger’s smug, smiling face, as he pulled the tall brunette toward him for a quick kiss.

“I’m actually sort of glad that I’m getting to see Roger in his element,” I went on. I looked back to Brian and smiled as I said, “It just proves to me once and for all what I already knew, that I’m with the right guy now.”

Brian gave me a weak smile in return and said, “You’re sure?”

“I’m positive,” I replied.

“Hey! Look who’s here!” I could hear Roger’s booming voice calling out behind me as he clearly made his way further into the bar area. 

I gritted my teeth, painted on a smile and turned toward him, trying to sound as casual and lighthearted as I could, as I said, “Well, well, the prodigal son returns. I thought you were still in Cornwall.”

“Just left yesterday,” Roger replied with a crooked grin. “When Freddie told me over the phone that Rory Gallagher was going to be playing, I didn’t want to miss it.”

“How long has Freddie known that you were going to be here?” Brian asked casually.

“Since Thursday, I reckon,” Roger replied. “Why?”

“No reason,” Brian replied with a slight shake of his head. I could tell by the look on his face, though, that he was irritated that Freddie hadn’t mentioned it to us on Friday. He leaned in toward me then and said, “I’m just going to go make sure Freddie found us all a spot for the show. I’ll be right back.”

“Roger, do you know where the toilet’s at?” the tall brunette girl suddenly asked. Roger pointed toward a hallway to the left of the bar, and both girls left saying that they’d be right back.

“Take your time ladies,” Roger called after them with a smile and wave.

Suddenly the two of us were alone, and it felt very awkward.

“Well, it seems like it didn’t take long for you to recuperate from our break up,” I said in an acidic tone, wishing I hadn’t said it the moment it left my lips. If I felt any leftover hurt and resentment towards Roger over our breakup, I really didn’t want him to know.

“That’s rich coming from you,” Roger sneered, taking the seat that Brian had left moments before. “I hear that you and my best friend have become quite the item while I’ve been away. A best friend whom I noticed that you’re here with tonight, by the way, so I don’t see that you have any room to judge me.”

Roger flagged the bartender down, ordering himself a vodka and tonic while he waited for his companions to return.

“Well, at least I only came here with _one_ date tonight,” I replied sarcastically.

“Jealous are we?” Roger asked, smirking triumphantly in my direction.

Lord, why couldn’t I just let it go! I knew that making me jealous was exactly what he’d been hoping for, and I knew that I was playing right into his hands, but I couldn’t help it. Deep down, it really did piss me off to see him looking so smug and satisfied after everything we’d been through.

“Of those poor girls?” I scoffed. “Not a chance. Little do they know what they’re in for getting involved with you.”

“On the contrary,” Roger replied, reaching for the drink that the bartender slid in front of him. “I’ve known both of these girls for years. They’re old friends of mine from Truro. They wanted to come visit London, so I thought I’d bring them along.”

“In your car?” I asked skeptically.

“It was a bit of a challenge,” Roger grinned. “But I won’t complain about having a couple of beautiful girls pressed up against me for a few hours while I’m driving.”

I just rolled my eyes at him as I saw Brian heading back my way.

“I think the show’s about to start,” he said to me, reaching for my hand. “Freddie’s found us a great spot near the stage. Are you ready to go?”

“Yes, I absolutely am,” I replied. I drank what was left of my drink, gathered up my purse and took Brian’s offered hand, giving Roger one last look before I went. It was a very poignant moment for me, because it finally felt like things were over between Roger and me. I knew it would be tough to see him again for the first time after our break up, and I feared that I would still feel something for him when I did, but the truth was that my feelings for him had changed. I was able to look at Roger and still see the boyish good looks that had attracted me in the first place, but they no longer held any power over me. Once it occurred to me that that was truly and sincerely the way that I felt, all the bitterness, all the animosity that I had initially felt when Roger had first walked through the door simply melted away to be replaced with a general sense of sadness that things had to reach such a dangerous breaking point between Roger, Brian and myself before we could find a sense of peace once again.

“Hope you enjoy the concert,” Roger smiled, before taking a long sip of his drink.

“You too,” I said sincerely, before Brian and I left for the show.

“I am bloody furious with Freddie right now,” Brian whispered scathingly under his breath to me. “He should have told us that Roger was going to be here tonight.”

I stopped walking once we’d left the bar area and gently turned Brian towards me.

“Hey, it’s okay, really,” I said. 

Brian seemed unconvinced, shaking his head vehemently with his lips pressed into a thin line.

“Babe, I mean it. I’m fine,” I said as reassuringly as I could.

“Roger didn’t say or do anything to upset you while I was talking with Freddie, did he?” Brian asked.

“No, in fact, you want to know something?” I asked, gently rubbing the back of Brian’s hand with my thumb. “Seeing Roger here tonight made me realize something. Things would have never worked out between him and me. We were so wrong for each other. Everything that I once felt for Roger is gone now. I’m not angry, I’m not bitter, I’m just grateful that things turned out the way they were supposed to in the end.”

I could see the tension in Brian’s face begin to lessen very slowly.

“We knew that we would have to face this situation eventually,” I reminded Brian quietly, “and it may as well have been tonight as any other night. Freddie’s right about one thing, you know, you and Roger have to get past this. You know that I could never live with myself if I felt I’d ruined your friendship with Roger. I don’t want that. I just want all of us to get along again.”

“If he just would have shown up on his own without two fucking girls with him!” Brian griped. “It pisses me off that he did that to purposefully upset you.”

“You know what? I don’t care,” I said, squeezing Brian’s hand. “If that’s what Roger feels that he has to do to make a point, then let him. If you think about it, it’s actually kind of sad, so don’t let it get to you, because I’m not going to let it get to me.”

Brian let out a deep sigh, as he looked down at our hands joined together.

“Besides,” I continued on with a smile. “I have to be forever grateful that Roger came into my life, you know, because if I had never met him, then I would have never met you.”

Brian smiled softly at me then, and pulled me into his arms for a warm embrace.

“And people accuse me of being too nice,” Brian teased, dropping a kiss on the top of my head before gazing into my eyes once more. “You have a lot more compassion than I would have in a situation like this, but, I know you’re right. We’ve all got to get past this, and if it’s not going to upset you that Roger’s parading his love life under your nose, then I won’t let it upset me either.”

“Good,” I grinned. “Cause we’ve got a concert to watch tonight that I hear is supposed to be pretty good.”

“Oh yeah?” Brian asked with a smile, wrapping an arm around me as we made our way through the crowd to find Freddie and the others. “Who told you that?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I teased. “Some tall good looking guy with dark curly hair. I don’t remember his name though. Maybe it was Brandon, I’m not sure. Anyway, he said he was a big fan of this Rory Gallagher guy, and that he stole part of his sound from him or something.”

“Well, it sounds like this Brandon fella must have quite an ear for music then,” Brian smirked.

“Eh, he’s okay,” I shrugged.

“Okay?? Only okay?” Brian cried, grabbing me around the waist, tickling and teasing me as we made our way closer to the stage.

The concert ended up being better than I’d imagined, and I found a whole new appreciation for this Irish born blues musician named Rory Gallagher. I may not have known any of his music, but I enjoyed myself just the same. The best part, of course, was that Brian was happy to be there, and seeing Brian happy always made me happy. And even better still, by the end of the show, Brian and Roger were actually talking once again, discussing the various guitars that Rory Gallagher had used during his set and sharing opinions on some of the new songs that he played from his latest album. Freddie and I exchanged a quick smile, and it was good to see that a sense of normalcy was returning once again to our little group.


	35. Chapter 35

The rest of April was relatively busy for Brian and me. We each had a lot to occupy our minds. I had a mountain of schoolwork to get caught up on after being sick, and with the end of term closing in I didn’t have a lot of time to get everything done. Annie was a saint and helped me study for the tests that I’d missed and had to retake, and got me back up to speed as quickly as possible. We only had about a month left to write our end of term papers, so we both picked our topics carefully and spent many hours in the King’s College library doing research. May 19th was to be our last day of school, and the two of us were looking forward to our summer break. Annie had plans to go visit family in the north of England for most of the summer, and I didn’t necessarily care what I did over the summer, as long as it didn’t involve studying the 19th century for a while!

Naturally, every student at King’s College felt the same way that we did, and a massive end of term party had been planned at a pub called The King & Queen in Fitzrovia. Apparently there was even going to be a local band playing, so Annie told me to invite all the guys to come along with us. The more the merrier, she said.

As it turned out, I wasn’t the only one who had decided to buckle down with their schoolwork in the month of April. Brian and I had been spending a fair amount of time with his parents, going over to their house for dinner, or for Brian to help his dad with a project, etc., and every time we were with them, the subject of Brian’s doctoral thesis kept popping up. Brian hadn’t really spoken much about the subject to me since we’d been together, but I discovered that he’d been taking a bit of a break from it out of frustration, and hadn’t told his parents. When he saw how hard I was working to earn my master’s though, I think it may have inspired him to pull his work back out, dust it off, and continue what he’d started. I gave him as much encouragement as I could, and I had to admit that spending the occasional weekend cuddled up and studying together made doing my own schoolwork a lot more fun.

In addition to Brian’s doctoral thesis, there had been several meetings between Brian, Roger, Freddie and John as well, trying to work out the offer they’d received from Trident. After much bickering back and forth, the guys finally came to the conclusion that the only way that they would sign was if Trident broke their contract up into three sections - one regarding their publishing rights, one for the recording deal and another for the management contract - otherwise they weren’t interested. They met with the Sheffield brothers and an agreement was finally made, with the band being promised a new PA system and new instruments in the near future so that they could begin recording their first album. Brian wasn’t as excited as the others about the new instruments, since he already had the most amazing, hand-built guitar on the planet, but he was happy that this meant that Queen would be back in the studio soon to finish what they’d started months earlier at De Lane Lea.

The month of May dawned bright and sunny, and I was never so happy in my life as when May 19th rolled around and Annie and I walked out of our last class for spring term.

“We made it! We actually survived our spring semester! Can you believe it?” Annie asked as we walked toward the staircase that led to the entrance hall below.

“Honestly, no!” I laughed. “With the way my life has been going the last few months, I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to continue working on my master’s degree at all!”

“Really?” Annie asked. “I mean, I know you’ve hit a few bumps along the way, but I never really thought you’d been worried about having to give it all up!”

“Oh yeah,” I replied, as we walked down the first few steps. “Round about the beginning of April when I got sick I was already starting to prepare myself for the fallout from my parents if I failed any of my classes.”

“They would have been that angry with you?” Annie asked.

“Well, they’re the ones that are paying for the majority of this England experience, so yeah. I think they would have been pretty upset with me, and I likely would have gotten a one way ticket back to America from them,” I answered.

“Well, I know one person that’s not upset with you,” Annie smiled.

I gave her a slightly bewildered look and she motioned toward something below us in the entrance hall. When I looked down next to a large potted plant, I could see bits of dark curly hair and one adorable hazel eye peeping out at me. Brian poked his head out the rest of the way from behind the plant and smiled brightly as Annie and I descended the last few stairs. He looked amazing, dressed in a pair of charcoal grey pants, a white button-down shirt with grey pin stripes, and his usual black stacked heel boots.

“Hey you!” I called out, quickening my pace until I was face-to-face with Brian. “I’m surprised to see you here!”

“Well, I couldn’t let the last day of your first semester go unnoticed,” Brian smiled. He held out the most beautiful bouquet of pink roses that I’d ever seen and handed them to me, saying, “These are for all the hard work you’ve done over the past few months.”

“Oh my God! Those are beautiful!” Annie gasped, coming over to stand beside the two of us. “I wish I had a boyfriend that brought me roses for the end of semester!”

“Brian, you’re the best boyfriend on the planet,” I said, throwing my arms around his neck and pulling him toward me for a quick kiss.

“Wait, I’m just the best boyfriend on the _planet?”_ Brian teased, hands on his hips.

“Oh my gosh! How could I make such a mistake in front of my boyfriend the astrophysicist!” I laughed, playfully slapping myself on the forehead with the palm of my hand. “I meant the best boyfriend in the entire _universe!”_

“That’s more like it,” Brian smiled, wrapping his arm around me and dropping a quick kiss on the top of my head. “Oh! And I have another surprise for you.”

“You do?” I asked excitedly.

“Yep,” Brian grinned. “It was all my dad’s idea. He said that since you and I hadn’t been on what he considers to be a ‘proper’ date yet, that I needed to take you out to a nice dinner, his treat.”

“Oh my God! That’s so nice of your dad!” I exclaimed. “Where are we going?”

“A new place called Maxwell’s in Hampstead that serves American burgers,” Brian said. “I thought you might be missing a bit of good old American fare, so I made us a reservation at six.”

“But you don’t like burgers all that much, do you?” I asked.

“They’re not my favorite, but I don’t mind one occasionally,” Brian shrugged. “Besides, this night is for you and to celebrate all your accomplishments.”

“I love you, you know that?” I asked, hugging Brian tightly around the waist.

When I looked at Annie, she had a hand clasped to her chest, looking slightly emotional. She suddenly gave me a very stern glare and said, “I swear to God, if you ever let this one go, I will personally hunt you down!”

“I’m not planning on letting this one go, believe me,” I sighed, looking up into Brian’s angelic hazel eyes.

“Oh, wait!” Annie suddenly exclaimed. “What about tonight? You guys are still planning on going to the party at the King & Queen, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, we’ll still be there,” Brian answered. He looked to me and asked, “Roger, Freddie and John are coming too, aren’t they?”

“They told me they were,” I said.

“Brilliant! Well, I’ll see all of you tonight then!” Annie exclaimed.

The three of us said our goodbyes so that Brian and I could go home and get ready for our night out. We went back to my place first, where I put my beautiful flowers in a vase full of water, then ran off to my closet to find my new peach and white empire waistline dress, which I’d been looking for the perfect opportunity to wear.

Brian sat on my bed watching my progress, and said, “I had a feeling you might wear that tonight.”

“You think you know me so well?” I smiled, waltzing over to him, dress in hand. I leaned over slightly to kiss him, and one kiss led to two, which then led to three, which then led to me laying the dress aside while Brian and I fell onto the bed, arms and legs wrapped around each other for a sudden make-out session.

After a while we both decided that we’d better stop, or we wouldn’t make it anywhere at all that night. I got up and took a quick shower, and then brushed my teeth and fixed my make up before having Brian help me slip into my dress. I gathered my hair into a high ponytail, twisted it into a bun, and let a few wisps hang down in the back and on the sides for a very pretty up-do. I found some dangly pearl earrings and a matching pearl necklace and put those on along with a splash of my favorite perfume and my white shoes, and decided I was ready.

Brian smiled at me as I reemerged from the bathroom.

“Well, how do I look?” I asked.

“You look beautiful,” Brian breathed. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen your hair up like that before. I like it.”

I found my new white purse in my closet and exchanged my plain brown bag that I normally carried for it instead. I grabbed my camera out of my closet as well, just in case, and Brian and I headed off for his place so that he too could get ready.

It didn’t take him nearly as long as it took me. He changed into a white shirt and black tie, along with black pants and a black jacket, and kept his black boots on. He checked his hair to make sure it still looked okay, splashed on a bit of cologne, grabbed his wallet and camera, and he was ready to go. 

We drove into Hampstead and Brian parked his Mini in a local lot. We were running a bit early for our dinner reservation, so we decided to walk up and down the busy thoroughfares looking through a few of the shops before they closed for the night. Our first stop was an antique shop where Brian found a few old stereoscopic photos that he didn’t already have, and I found an old illustrated copy of Charles Dickens’ _A Christmas Carol_ that I couldn’t live without. We took pictures of each other as we meandered through the shop, and even had someone out on the street take a picture of us together in front of the shop’s sign.

Next, I spotted a store that sold a variety of items from Ireland. Brian and I both were intrigued and went inside to see what they had to offer. It was an eclectic mix of fisherman sweaters, Guinness merchandise, cups and pottery with sayings like “Erin Go Bragh” painted across the front, Celtic jewelry, and much, much more. Brian was eyeing a unique set of pub glasses with the Guinness logo painted on the front, while I was reading the history behind a particular Celtic knot necklace that had caught my attention. The description read: “Celtic love knots popularly known as the eternity knot represents the union of two souls by interweaving two individual strands. They are commonly used in Celtic wedding rings, which portray two unbroken loops that intertwine and are inseparable from each other. They also symbolize the never-ending cycle of life with their intricate and interwoven patterns that have no end or beginning.”

I knew as soon as I read it that I had to buy it for Brian. The necklace itself wasn’t particularly intricate, just a sterling silver chain that slipped over one’s head featuring a small knot in the center and dangling ends below. It felt like exactly the right kind of thing for Brian though, I thought to myself, simple and uncomplicated, yet beautiful and strong. And the fact that it represented the union of two souls made it the perfect way for me to show my love for him.

I peeked over to my right, where Brian was standing about ten feet away, and saw that he was still engrossed in the Guinness stuff. I casually plucked the necklace off of the rack, and walked quietly up to the cash register, hoping that I could pay for the item without Brian noticing so that I could surprise him. Everything was going swimmingly until the clerk had to open his mouth.

“How are you today miss?” he asked.

I knew that as soon as I spoke that the jig was going to be up, but what could I do? I fleetingly thought of trying to fake an English accent, but knew that it would do no good. Brian would know that it was me as soon as I opened my mouth to speak.

“I’m fine, you?” I asked.

“I’m well, thanks,” the man responded as he started punching in keys on the ancient cash register.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Brian turn to his left, looking to see where I’d gone. When I wasn’t in the spot where he’d last seen me, he looked toward the register to see what I was up to. He set down the pub glass he’d been holding, and walked up to the counter to stand beside me.

“Are you getting something?” he asked.

“Mm-hmm,” I mumbled.

“That’ll be one pound ten pence miss,” the clerk said. 

I reached into my purse and procured two one-pound coins, handed them to the clerk, and watched quietly as he opened the till and counted out my change.

“Would you like a bag, miss?” the clerk asked me as he dropped the coins into the palm of my hand.

“No, I’ll take it just like that,” I answered.

Brian was looking over my shoulder to see what I’d purchased, and said, “Oh, you got yourself a necklace.”

“No, I got you a necklace,” I said, turning toward him and holding it out as an offering.

“What?” Brian asked, taking the proffered object.

“It’s a Celtic love knot,” I said. “Read the little card that comes with it.”

Brian stared at me for a moment, then did as I asked, quickly scanning the history and meaning behind the necklace.

“I don’t know what to say,” he said finally, shaking his head.

“Well, I was hoping that you might say that you like it?” I said, looking at Brian hopefully.

“It’s incredible,” Brian said, looking up at me. “It’s without a doubt the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever given me. I can’t believe you bought it for me.”

“I love you,” I shrugged. “I’ve been wanting to give you something to symbolize that love for a while now, but I couldn’t find anything that felt right, until I saw this.”

“You’re mad, you know that?” Brian said, pulling me into his arms. “You shouldn’t be spending your money on me.”

“Oh stop,” I said. “I’d buy you everything under the sun if I could.”

Brian pulled away from me and just shook his head again, looking down at the necklace.

“Put it on,” I urged.

Brian took the necklace off of the little cardboard card that it came on, and slipped it over the top of his head, momentarily tangling the ends of the chain in his mane of wild hair. He smoothed it out and shifted it into place, and asked, “Well?”

“It looks perfect,” I said.

Brian turned to the clerk for his opinion, and the man in question said, “Very nice sir.”

Brian blushed a little and handed the man behind the counter his camera, asking him if he wouldn’t mind taking a picture of us together. The clerk likely thought that we were both mad, but obliged anyway. Brian wrapped an arm around me, pulling me in close to his side, as he sighed contentedly and we smiled for the camera.

By that time the shops were all starting to close up, and our reservation time was drawing near. Brian and I walked hand in hand through the streets of Hampstead, talking animatedly about the fact that the area had once been famous for highwaymen. Thankfully it wasn’t any longer.

We eventually found Maxwell’s and went inside. It was a tiny place that was filled with Americana on each and every wall, from Hollywood movie posters to famous street signs and everything in between. I felt very much like I had just walked into a cozy but chic American diner back home.

We only had to wait for a few minutes until our table was ready, and once we sat down we ordered a bottle of wine and couple of salads for our appetizers while we looked over the menu.

“Lots of different burgers to choose from,” Brian said after a minute or two. He looked at me and smiled and asked, “What would you recommend?”

It was the first time in months that I’d looked at a menu with food that actually felt familiar. I had to smile when I realized that they had a wide range of burgers that represented various locations throughout the United States.

“Well, looks like they’ve got Carolina burgers with chili, mustard and coleslaw,” I said. “And a Texas style barbequed burger. There’s a Hawaiian burger with teriyaki sauce and pineapple, and… Oh! Here we go! California style burgers with lettuce, onion and tomato - that’s what I’ll get.”

“That sounds pretty good, maybe I’ll get one of those too,” Brian grinned, closing his menu with a snap and setting it down. “So what makes a California burger different from the rest?”

“I don’t know really,” I shrugged. “I guess we put more veggies on our burgers because we’re famous for fresh produce in California.”

This led to an entire conversation about all of the things that we grew just in Fresno County alone, and Brian seemed suitably impressed.

Soon the wine came, followed shortly thereafter by the salads, and we each ordered our California burger. Brian asked our waiter if he wouldn’t mind taking a picture of us sitting at our table, and the waiter gladly agreed, snapping two or three photos of us sitting close together with our wine glasses clinking. It occurred to me that I hadn’t eaten much that afternoon, so it wasn’t long before the wine started making me feel a little giddy. After only one glass, I found myself already having some very naughty thoughts. 

I stretched my foot underneath the table until I made contact with Brian’s leg, and ran my toes up inside of his pants, causing him to jump in his seat, nearly spilling his wine into his lap. He glanced quickly under the table to make sure that I was doing what he thought I was doing, and then stared at me with a mildly shocked expression as I waggled my eyebrows at him.

“Are you, um, trying to tell me something?” Brian choked out.

“Only that I love you, and that I find you very sexy, and that I’m already getting a little tipsy from the wine,” I smiled.

“Should we eat quickly and skip the pub tonight?” Brian asked with a sparkle in his eyes.

“No, I’m just having a little fun teasing you,” I said, grinning at him over the rim of my wine glass.

“If you get me all hot and bothered, you’d better be prepared to forgo the pub,” Brian said seriously.

“Okay, fine,” I laughed. “Although I think it would be awfully rude not to go after we told the guys to meet us there.”

“That’s right, we did, didn’t we? Damn,” Brian muttered under his breath.

“It’s okay,” I purred, drinking down the rest of my wine. “I can think of a few fun things that we can do after we leave the pub.”

Brian swallowed down the rest of his wine as well, and then reached for the bottle, pouring himself another glass.

“Ready for more?” he asked me, holding up the wine bottle with a flirtatious grin.

I giggled and held my glass out as he poured me what was left in the bottle. Our food arrived a few minutes later, and the burgers that we’d ordered were delicious.

Within half an hour we were completely stuffed and debating whether or not we wanted to order dessert. We finally decided to share some apple pie, which arrived at our table warm and covered in fluffy whipped cream. After two glasses of wine I was feeling pretty good, and I decided to push the envelope even further with Brian as far as the flirting was concerned. I dipped my finger into the whipped cream on top of the apple pie, and slowly sucked it off of my finger as I stared across the table at him. He sat watching me intensely, his mouth open slightly, so I reached down for more whipped cream and held my finger out toward him instead. At first he was hesitant, and with good reason considering that we were in a public place, but I quirked an eyebrow at him as if daring him to do it, and he finally leaned forward, sucking the cream off of my finger and sending shivers down my body to the tips of my toes.

We moved our chairs closer to each other, and slowly made our way through the apple pie, feeding each other bites, and practically having sex with our eyes right there at the table.

“God I can’t wait to get you home tonight,” Brian leaned over and breathed into my ear between bites.

“What are you going to do when you get me home?” I asked coyly.

“I’m going to take that sweet, innocent little dress off of you, let that sexy long blonde hair of yours down again and fuck you all night,” Brian whispered.

It was the first time that Brian had ever really talked dirty to me, and my heart was racing, my breath coming out in ragged gasps over the prospect of what would come later. I was the one who had started our naughty little flirtation, almost as a joke, and now I was the one who was aching with the need of feeling Brian’s warm naked body next to mine. How was I ever going to survive the torturous time that we were now obligated to spend at the King & Queen?


	36. Chapter 36

The two of us left Maxwell’s practically groping each other all the way to Brian’s car, which was parked a couple blocks away. Brian opened the passenger side door for me, and then ran quickly around to the driver’s side, letting himself in. Within half a second we were all over each other, kissing, touching and tasting, and wanting desperately to take each other’s clothes off right then and there. I had to admit that even the tiny backseat of his Mini was starting to look like a nice romantic spot in that moment.

“Please tell me we can go back to your place and skip the pub,” Brian panted, running a hand up the side of my thigh.

“We promised everyone we’d be there,” I replied. “Besides, the longer we keep teasing each other like this, the more fun it’s going to be when we finally get to my place, don’t you think?”

I demonstrated my point by plunging my tongue into Brian’s mouth, and kissing him until we were both left gasping for air.

“I don’t know how girl’s bodies work,” Brian breathed, reaching for my hand and placing it on his crotch, “but for a man, this isn’t fun unless he gets to use it.”

“Mm, nice,” I said, rubbing my hand over the bulge in his pants, as I leaned in to kiss his neck.

“No, no, no,” Brian said, quickly removing my hand. “You have to stop that unless we’re going to either your place or mine right now.”

“Fine,” I sighed, leaning back in the passenger seat. “Let’s just go to the pub for a little bit, and then we’ll leave, okay?”

Brian quietly groaned and said, “Fine, on one condition.” He pointed at his crotch and said, “This has got to be gone by the time we reach the pub, or we’re going back to your place.”

“Deal,” I said.

He needn’t have worried. By the time we got through fighting the London traffic, everything was back to normal. We were still counting down the seconds, though, until we could get back to my place and have the rest of the night to ourselves.

The King & Queen ended up being a beautiful multi-storied Victorian gothic-styled building, with the pub itself taking up the bottom two floors. The noise was ridiculous as Brian and I stepped inside. The sound of live music and people dancing wafted down the staircase from the second floor to mingle with the incessant clamor of talking, laughing and dart playing that greeted us on the first floor.

Annie happened to be standing at the bar shouting out drink orders to the barman when she caught sight of us.

“Hey! You made it!” She cried, coming over to throw her arms around me first, and then Brian. Clearly, she’d already had a few before we got there. “Look at you two all dressed up!”

“We just came from dinner,” I explained.

“Well come on,” she beckoned, “I’m just ordering some drinks. What do you want?”

I looked to Brian, and he said that he’d just have a beer while I decided on my usual juice and vodka.

“Oh, I forgot to mention, your friends are here,” Annie said loudly over the din as the three of us stood by the bar waiting for our drinks.

“Who’s here?” I asked.

“Freddie, Roger and John, and I think that’s it,” Annie replied.

“No girls with them tonight?” Brian asked.

“No, but Roger’s already danced and flirted with a few since he’s been here,” Annie said, rolling her eyes at me.

We got our drinks and went upstairs, Brian grabbing a quick handful of my ass as my dress swayed temptingly in front of him. I turned and shook my finger at him playfully, and he just grinned and waggled his eyebrows at me.

The second floor was crammed with people dancing, drinking, talking and laughing. It was relatively dark inside, with the majority of the lighting coming from the stage lights belonging to the band playing in the far corner. The band itself consisted of four guys with a female lead singer that also played acoustic guitar, and they sounded okay, but were very loud in such a small space.

Annie made her excuses and took her handful of drinks off to a group of friends from school, while Brian’s eyes were immediately drawn toward the stage, studying the band as they played. It was harder for me to see the stage since I was short and there was a sea of people blocking my view, but I did notice that the lead singer was tall, blonde and cute, so I nudged Brian teasingly and said, “Hey, Romeo. I’m still here you know.”

“What?” Brian asked.

“I see you checking out their lead singer,” I smirked.

“N-no I wasn’t,” Brian stammered.

Suddenly someone grabbed me around the waist from behind and swung me around in a circle, nearly making my drink slop over the edge of my glass.

“Put me down Freddie!” I yelled.

“How did you know it was me?” Freddie laughed.

“Who else would be picking me up and spinning me around?” I exclaimed. “Besides, I could see your constant companions here out of the corner of my eye as you spun me.”

I was talking about Roger and John, of course, who were standing next to Freddie, grinning from ear to ear.

“Look at you tonight, darling! With that dress on and your hair up you look like a little angel,” Freddie said, standing back to get a better look at me.

Brian snorted with laughter as soon as Freddie called me an angel.

“Uh-oh! I’ve unearthed a secret!” Freddie said with glee. “What’s she been doing tonight, Brian, that’s been un-angelic?”

“I’m not going to kiss and tell,” Brian smiled, shaking his head.

“We were having a little fun with some apple pie at dinner tonight,” I grinned, wrapping my arms around Brian. I was waiting for the shocked expressions on the guy’s faces, and they didn’t disappoint. Freddie, Roger and John all stood staring at me for a moment while Brian chuckled to himself and looked at the ground.

“What the fuck were you doing with apple pie?” Freddie asked, looking at me completely aghast.

I started laughing uncontrollably over the look on Freddie’s face, then looked up at Brian, who was laughing too, and I finally managed to choke out, “Nothing, really. It just involved a little whipped cream, that’s all.”

“Were the two of you at a restaurant?” Roger asked with a disbelieving look on his face.

“Yes,” Brian and I smiled.

“You’re a bad influence on him,” Roger said to me, motioning toward Brian. “He used to be a nice quiet guy until you got ahold of him.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised,” I said before gazing up at Brian and waggling my eyebrows at him. “The nice guy façade is only when he’s not in the bedroom.”

“Okay, I’m cutting you off with the drinks tonight,” Brian said, reaching for my glass as if he was going to take it from me.

“Yeah, I know that look,” Roger said knowingly, referring to the lust-filled grin that I was giving Brian. He scowled slightly and turned to Freddie, saying, “Brian’s going to have a fun night tonight.”

“Yeah, if we can ever get the hell out of here,” Brian complained.

“Oh don’t leave yet, you just got here!” Freddie pleaded. “Come on, we’ve got a couch and some chairs over in the corner that we were saving for when you arrived.”

We followed Freddie and the others to a small dark area over in the corner of the room where a black leather couch and two matching chairs formed a u-shape with a black lacquered coffee table in the center. I sat in the middle of the couch flanked by Brian on one side and Freddie on the other, while Roger and John took the two opposing chairs. The guys started talking about their plans for going into the recording studio before long, and chatted endlessly about the new instruments they’d be getting. Brian and I had been holding hands since we’d sat down, and without realizing that we were doing it, started scooting slowly toward each other until our bodies were pressed tightly together. I sat quietly sipping at my cocktail, listening to everything that the guys had to say about what songs they were planning on recording, and what songs they thought they should leave out, and I absentmindedly started running my foot up Brian’s pant leg again.

Brian gazed down at me with a hungry expression in his eyes, and suddenly we heard Freddie snapping his fingers, saying, “Brian! Earth to Brian!”

“Hmm? What?” Brian asked.

“Are you two playing footsie?” Freddie demanded, leaning forward so that he had a better view of our feet.

I pulled my foot out of Brian’s pant leg, feigned an innocent look, and said, “No.”

“You’re in a very naughty mood tonight, aren’t you darling?” Freddie smirked at me with that Cheshire cat grin of his.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Roger scowling again.

“I don’t know about you, Fred, but I need another drink. Why don’t you come to the bar with me,” Roger said suddenly, moving to get up.

“Oh fine,” Freddie said. He looked over at Brian and me and asked, “Do you two need anything? Other than a hotel room that charges by the hour?”

“Nope, I’m good,” I smiled.

“Me too,” Brian agreed.

As soon as Freddie and Roger walked away, Brian and I had our eyes locked on one another’s again. Our lips met, softly at first, but our desire was too strong, and we were kissing long and deep in a matter of seconds, completely forgetting that John was sitting right there watching our every move. I shifted my legs onto Brian’s lap, and Brian ran his hand up the inside of my thigh, sending shivers down my body.

“I want you so bad right now,” Brian breathed in my ear, before nibbling on my earlobe.

“Maybe we should stop and get some more whipped cream on the way back to my place,” I smiled.

Brian snapped his head around to face me and asked, “Is the market near your flat open right now?”

“You know what, now that I think of it, I’m pretty sure that I have a small carton of whipping cream at home. It just needs to be whipped up,” I said.

“Oh my God, you’re driving me crazy tonight,” Brian breathed before plunging his tongue back into my mouth again.

Roger and Freddie came walking up with their drinks a few minutes later, while Brian and I were still wrapped up in each other’s arms and lip-locked.

“Now you know what it used to be like to be around the two of you,” Freddie said to Roger, motioning from Roger to me.

Brian and I broke apart at the sound of their voices, with Brian mumbling a quick “sorry” to his friends.

“Don’t tell us you’re sorry,” Freddie admonished. “Poor Deaky had to sit here and watch you two the whole time we were gone, didn’t you John?”

“Yes, it was quite the learning experience, actually,” John grinned. “Apparently Carrie has a carton of whipping cream at home that she’s going to whip up when they get there.”

“How the hell did he hear us in all this noise?” I asked Brian. Brian just shrugged and turned slightly red around the ears.

“Hang on, I’ll be right back!” Freddie said, setting his drink down on the coffee table and running off toward the staircase. He came back a minute later holding an aerosol can of whipped cream, which apparently he had procured from the bar, and handed it to Brian, saying, “Here you are darling.”

“What would you like me to do with this?” Brian asked, holding up the can.

“Come on, you two dirty kids are obviously into this sort of thing, so show us your moves,” Freddie smirked, folding his arms across his chest.

“They haven’t got the balls,” Roger grumbled, pulling a cigarette out of his pack and lighting it up.

Brian and I looked at each other, and immediately he started shaking the can. I started laughing, thinking that he wouldn’t really do anything in front of the guys, but apparently I was wrong. He popped the lid off, tilted the can up, and told me to “open up”. I raised my eyebrows at him, as if asking him if he was serious, but Brian continued to hold the can at the ready, so I opened my mouth. He sprayed a small amount of cream inside, and before I could swallow it, his mouth was over mine, using his tongue to swap it between the two of us. We pulled away from each other and immediately started giggling, wiping our mouths with the back of our hands.

Brian shot a quelling look at Roger, and asked, “Now, what was that you were saying again, Rog?”

“Oh, just go home and fuck each other already,” Freddie bitched, snatching the can of whipped cream out of Brian’s hand.

“Finally!” Brian exclaimed. “We’ll see you fellas later!”

He grabbed my hand and pulled me up off of the couch as I reached for my purse. I gave the guys a quick wave, and had to practically run to keep up with Brian as his long legs made purposeful strides towards the stairs.

I’d never seen Brian drive so fast in my life. He practically stripped the gears in his poor little Mini as he zig-zagged through the streets of London, hell bent on getting to my place as fast as possible. He came to a screeching halt in front of the coffee shop below my flat, and rather than waiting for him to come around and open my door, I flung it open myself, quickly grabbing my purse and camera before hopping out of the car. We raced up the stairs and set our stuff on the kitchen table as soon as we were inside the door. I closed the door and locked it, and immediately Brian and I were grabbing for each other.

I reached up to loosen his tie while he wriggled out of his jacket, tossing it on the table. He pulled his tie the rest of the way off and it ended up somewhere on the floor. He pushed my back against the front door and we started kissing with lust-filled desire, tongues delving into each others mouths, hungry for the feel of our bodies joined together. I reached up to my hair, pulling out bobby pins and tossing them vaguely in the direction of my kitchen table, until my hair fell loose over my shoulders again.

“God yes…” Brian breathed, running his hands through my hair as we continued to kiss.

He reached behind me and unzipped my dress then, pulling it up over my head and tossing it carefully over the back of one of my kitchen chairs. I reached up to the top button of his shirt and started unbuttoning as fast as my fingers could move. I reached the bottom and pulled the tucked in fabric out of his pants, reaching up to run my hands over his chest as he tugged at his sleeves, pulling the shirt the rest of the way off. Brian’s smooth chest and stomach always turned me on, and I started kissing every inch of skin that I could reach, when I suddenly remembered the whipped cream.

“Hang on,” I breathed, and ducked off to the kitchen while Brian watched me with frustration.

“What do you mean hang on?” he whined. “I’ve been hanging on all night!”

He took off his boots and left them on the floor near the table, then came into the kitchen to see what I was doing. I reached into one of my cupboards clad in nothing but my bra, panties and shoes, and plucked out a medium sized glass bowl. I took off my shoes and quickly tossed them aside, then reached for my hand mixer and beaters in a nearby drawer, setting the whole thing up and plugging it in. I turned around to my fridge and dug around inside looking for the carton of whipping cream, nearly dropping an entire package of eggs in my haste. I finally found it and poured it into the glass bowl along with a dash of vanilla and a bit of sugar.

Brian stood watching me, leaning against the kitchen counter, arms folded across his shirtless chest. Just the sight of his half naked body was enticing me to move as quickly as possible. I’d already spotted several places on his stomach and chest where I was anxious to put a dollop of cream and lick it back off.

I fired up my mixer and plunged it into the thick liquid, swirling it around and filling it with air until stiff peaks formed. I popped the beaters off of the mixer and looked up at Brian while I sucked the cream off of one seductively.

“Perfect,” I announced with flick of my eyebrows.

“Let me see the other beater,” Brian said in a husky voice. I handed it to him and he made a show of slowly licking off every bit of cream, driving me crazy with thoughts of other ways that I could put that tongue to good use. 

“Well?” I asked.

“It’s very good,” Brian said, handing me the beater.

Normally I was very meticulous about putting my cooking equipment away and cleaning up my mess when I was done, but in that moment I couldn’t have cared less. The mixer remained where it was, the beaters were flung into the sink, and the empty carton of cream was lying on its side dribbling out a small puddle of thick, rich, liquid onto the countertop.

I dipped my finger into the bowl of cream and reached over to Brian’s chest, putting a dollop on each of his nipples. He sucked in his breath as I ran my tongue over his chest, licking the cream off as I went. He reached behind me and unclasped my bra, hanging it by one of the straps from a knob on my kitchen cupboards. He followed my lead and put a daub of cold fluffy cream on each of my breasts, then lifted me up onto the kitchen counter so he could reach my chest more easily to suck it back off. Somehow neither of us had ever realized before that with me sitting on the kitchen counter, we were of a similar height and had much easier access to each other’s lips and neck and anyplace else we felt like kissing.

I reached back into the bowl of cream and dropped a dollop onto the end of Brian’s nose and chin, reaching up to kiss and suck it right back off again. Brian reached into the bowl next and pulled out a daub of cream on the end of his index finger, holding it in front of my mouth for me to suck back off. I was more than happy to oblige, and took the cream covered finger into my mouth, sucking and teasing until Brian was practically whimpering with desire. He kissed me long and hard, the sweet taste of whipped cream filling our senses. 

“Come on,” Brian said at last, lifting me down from the counter. He picked up the bowl of whipped cream in one hand, grabbed my hand with the other, and said, “I’ve got a few more place where this can go.”

He dragged me off in the direction of my bedroom, setting the bowl of whipped cream on my nightstand, while the rest of our clothes came off a piece at a time to be strewn around the floor. I pulled the covers back and the two of us rolled around, arms and legs intertwined, as we kissed a bit more before reaching for the whipped cream again.

Brian was the first to dip his finger in, spreading a healthy portion across my stomach before slowly licking it back off. He kissed his way back up to my lips, and the two of us rolled over together, placing me on top of him. I reached for the bowl, and grabbed a large dollop to cover the tip of his hard cock. I scooted down the bed and took him into my mouth, sucking and licking at the whipped cream, making Brian whimper and gasp with pleasure.

“Oh God, if you keep doing that we’re going to be finished here in a matter of seconds,” Brian breathed.

He pulled me back to him for a long kiss then rolled me onto my back, kissing down my body until his mouth found the warm wet center between my legs. He reached for the cream and spread a small amount across a very sensitive part of my body and then slowly licked it back off again. His hair tickled the inside of my thighs as his tongue continued to work magic, delving deep inside of me, making cry out with pleasure.

I couldn’t take the wait any longer. After a long night of teasing and flirting I had to feel him inside of me. Brian seemed to sense my need and positioned himself between my legs, kissing me one last time before plunging his hard cock deep inside of me.

“Oh God, yes,” I sighed, wrapping my legs around Brian’s body, pulling him closer.

We screwed each other like animals that night, our bodies sweating and grinding together with a desperate need. We both whimpered and cried out as Brian drove hard and fast inside of me, barely able to contain his desire. We rolled over so that I was on top of him, straddling his body, moving over the top of his hard cock, until he was left gasping for air. I could feel his release building as he grabbed my ass, meeting my every move with a thrust of his own.

“Brian…Brian…” I whimpered, moving faster as my climax was about ready to hit me hard.

Brian squeezed my ass with both hands and thrust one last time before tossing his head back against the pillow, crying out, “Oh God…Carrie…”

My arms felt weak as I propped myself up on them trying to catch my breath. Brian wrapped his arms around me and drew me down to him for a long, passionate kiss. He rolled me back onto my back, propped himself up on his elbow next to me, still breathing hard, and said, “I hope you know we’re not done tonight.”

I just laughed quietly and wiped the stray hairs out of my face, saying, “You promised me a whole night of sex, and you’d better stay true to your word.”

“How’s the whipped cream doing?” Brian asked, reaching over to tip the bowl up slightly so that he could peer inside.

“It better still be okay, cause I’m planning on putting some more on you here in a second,” I breathed.

“Are there still parts of me that you haven’t covered already?” Brian laughed.

“Oh yeah there are…” I said, shoving him down onto his back. I reached for more whipped cream and smeared it into and around Brian’s bellybutton, one of my favorite areas on his body, and tickled him mercilessly with my tongue as I licked it all off again.

This went on for a while with each of us finding new and unique places to apply the sticky substance and lick it back off again. Brian was a self-confessed ass-man, so naturally he had to spread some across my butt cheeks before slowly taking it all off with his tongue. I’ve always had a bit of a thing for a guy’s forearms, especially if they’re nice and slender like Brian’s, so, naturally, I spread a row of cream down each of his arms before using my tongue to take it all back off again. By the time we were finished, pretty much every part of our bodies had been covered, including thighs, toes, necks, earlobes, and anyplace else we could think of. We were sticky from head to toe, and laughed when the skin on our bodies starting fusing together as if we’d been rolling around in glue.

We started kissing again, our lips sticky with cream, and Brian ran his hand down my body, plunging his long, slender fingers inside the wet sticky center between my legs, making me gasp for air.

“You like that?” Brian breathed in my ear.

“Mm-hmm,” I sighed, arching my back at his touch.

“Want my cock instead?” he whispered.

“Oh, God, yes,” I moaned. Nothing turned me on faster than Brian talking dirty to me, and I nearly came before he could even move between my legs.

We spent the entire night making love in every conceivable position, with Brian on top of me, under me, behind me and facing me on his side. I’d never experienced a night of such passion in my entire life. We simply couldn’t get enough of each other. Every time I thought that we were both too exhausted for another round, we were suddenly going at it again, kissing and touching each other until we had to feel another release. By the time five o’clock in the morning rolled around we were weak and tired and very, very happy. I curled up against Brian’s side, listening to his heart beating, and the two of us finally dozed off, sticky, sweaty, and completely contented with the world.


	37. Chapter 37

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The realization that there was a noise coming from somewhere inside of my flat dawned on Brian and me very slowly, as we struggled to open our eyes after our long exhausting night.

Pound. Pound. Pound.

“What the fuck…” Brian mumbled.

Without me asking, he got up out of bed, searched for his underwear, put it on, and walked out to my living room to answer the door. 

I heard the bolt turn, and the door creak open slightly, then Freddie’s voice as he complained “Finally! I was starting to think that you weren’t here after all!”

“Ugh…” Brian sighed. “What do you two want?”

_Two?_ I thought to myself, as I lay in bed still half asleep and completely naked. Who was with Freddie?

“We’ve got good news!”

Oh God, it was Roger…

“We just got a call from Norman Sheffield,” Roger went on. “They want us to go pick up our new instruments!”

“Okay,” Brian said irritably. “Except, I’m not getting a new instrument, remember?”

“Well you have to come with us,” Freddie said matter-of-factly. “And are you going to leave us standing on the doorstep all day, or are you going to invite us in?”

“I’m barely awake, and I’m not even dressed…” Brian groaned.

“Oh like we haven’t seen you naked before darling,” Freddie said, pushing his way into the flat with Roger in tow.

“Please, come in…” Brian said sarcastically before closing the door.

“What on earth is wrong with your hair, dear?” I could hear Freddie ask Brian. “It looks like you smeared glue in it.”

“I…um…” Brian mumbled. If I knew that man of mine like I thought I did, I could almost guarantee that he was reaching up to feel the remains of last night’s whipped cream in his hair, while he turned slightly red and tried in vain to come up with some sort of an excuse.

“Ah-ha!” I could hear Roger say. Judging by the echo of his voice, I figured that he was in the kitchen. “I think we may have found the culprit, Fred. An empty carton of whipping cream on the counter, an electric mixer, and sticky beaters in the sink; the two lovebirds kept to their word and had a little fun with a dairy product last night.”

“And look at this…” Freddie chimed in. “Carrie’s dress hanging on the back of a chair, Brian’s jacket tossed across the table, shoes lying on the floor, and, oh yes, Carrie’s bra hanging from a kitchen cupboard. Fuck me. What did you two do? Have sex on every possible surface last night?”

“No, we didn’t…” Brian floundered.

“Couldn’t even make it to the bedroom before you started tearing clothes off, could you?” Roger goaded. “Yeah, I remember those days…”

“Look, shouldn’t you two be going?” Brian said irritably. “I wouldn’t want to keep you from your lovely new instruments.”

“I told you, darling, you have to come with us,” Freddie purred. “And Carrie too if she wants. Where is she anyway?”

Oh no… I thought to myself. My brain was screaming out, _“Get up and hide in the bathroom now!!”_ but my tired body didn’t seem to be getting the message.

“She’s still in bed, probably asleep,” Brian explained. Then suddenly his voice grew urgent as he exclaimed, “Fellas! No, don’t!”

“There you are darling!” Freddie trilled as he bounded into the room, bouncing excitedly onto the bed next to me. Roger followed suit and flopped down on the end of the bed, while Brian stood just inside the doorway in his underwear, fuming, arms folded across his chest and a scowl etched deeply into his forehead.

I pulled the covers more tightly around me, and quickly looked down to make sure that nothing was exposed.

“Oh please,” Freddie scoffed, as he watched my efforts at modesty. “Everyone in this room has seen you naked, dear.”

Sadly, he was right.

“You know, it’s bad enough that you two have to come over and wake us up at this ungodly hour, but is it necessary that you climb into bed with me as well?” I asked, rubbing my eyes.

“Ungodly hour? It’s after ten o’clock!” Freddie argued. “And what is that awful stench in here? It smells like sex and sour milk.”

Brian quickly walked over to the nightstand where the bowl of whipped cream was still sitting from the night before, and said, “I’ll just get that…”

He left the room with it, while Freddie laughed, saying, “So the evidence was still in the room, eh?”

“You know, you two have become kind of pervy,” Roger said, arching an eyebrow at me.

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you,” I railed.

“What?” Roger laughed innocently. “What did I do?”

“Two words,” I began. _“Clockwork Orange._ And you still owe me a new Stanford shirt.”

“Wait, what am I missing here?” Freddie demanded.

Brian walked back into the room, and Roger and I just quietly replied, “Nothing.”

“All right you two, time to go,” Brian said. “Carrie and I could use a bit more sleep.”

“What time did the two of you finally get to sleep last night?” Freddie asked.

“Late,” Brian replied.

“Come on,” Roger pleaded. “We need you to go pick up Deaky so we can go get our stuff. Harris is going to meet us at the music shop with his van, and then we’re going to take everything over to Imperial and try it out. We need you to come along and bring your guitar.”

Brian and I just looked at each other, slightly bleary-eyed, from across the room.

“Fine,” Brian finally relented with a shake of his head. He looked at me and said, “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to though. If you’re still tired, just stay here and sleep a bit longer.”

“No, that’s all right,” I said with a yawn and a stretch. “How could I possibly pass up the opportunity of seeing these amazing new instruments in action for the first time. Besides, it’s not like I’ve got anything better to do, and I’d much rather spend the day with you than without you.”

“Aw, how sweet,” Roger said, and then proceeded to make retching noises.

I grabbed Brian’s pillow and smacked Roger in the head with it as hard as I could. Roger was about to hit me back with it when Freddie grabbed the pillow out of his hands and said, “All right, children, enough! We don’t have all day, and it’s obvious that Brian and Carrie need to bathe before I can be seen in public with them.”

“Fine, you two go watch TV while Brian and I take a shower,” I said. “Roger knows how to work the remote and all that.”

“You’re going to shower together, darling?” Freddie asked me with a quirked eyebrow. “The two of you are liable to be in there all day judging by how long you went at it last night.”

“Tell you what, I’ll just give him a blow job this time to save on time. How does that sound?” I asked, hoping that if I shocked Freddie enough, that maybe he’d shut up.

Freddie, Roger and Brian all looked at me completely gobsmacked. Brian quickly ushered the other two out of the room with Freddie mumbling something under his breath about American girls being vulgar, then closed the door and looked at me, asking, “Were you being serious?”

“Maybe…” I purred, waggling my eyebrows at him as I walked across the bedroom toward the bathroom.

Brian grabbed me around the waist as I sauntered past him and started kissing my neck playfully as we continued on into the shower. We made an effort not to fool around too much while we bathed; although anytime the two of us were naked together it was pretty hard to keep our hands off of each other.

We got out of the shower eventually, dried off, brushed our teeth and got dressed in record time. I donned my usual bell-bottomed jeans, ratty sneakers and my Simonian Farms t-shirt, and luckily, Brian had decided only a couple weeks before to leave a few articles of clothing at my place so he was able to find something to wear without having to go all the way to his place. He hardly ever wore jeans, but that day he did, along with a Jimi Hendrix t-shirt and a pair of sneakers. Both the jeans and the t-shirt were snug, clinging to every part of his body, and I knew that it was going to be a major distraction for me all day. Brian went out into the living room then to hang out with the other two while I dried my hair and put on a bit of make-up.

I grabbed my purse and camera and actually remembered to bring a book, knowing that it would probably be a long day, therefore I needed to have something to keep me occupied. I was actually wishing that I had a cross-stitch kit or some knitting needles and a ball of yarn so that I could work on something if I got bored. I hadn’t made anything “crafty” since I’d left home, mainly because college and my crazy love life took up so much of my time, but now that it was summer and I didn’t have to worry about school for a few months, I decided that a trip to a needlework shop might have to be in order.

We all left my place and popped into the coffee shop downstairs so that Brian and I could grab a quick muffin and cup of coffee, then it was off to get Deaky. Brian and I followed behind Roger, zipping through the streets of London, and several minutes later pulled up in front of a tall, white, multi-storied building in which, apparently, John Deacon occupied a small flat on the ground floor. I felt a bit like we were bombarding the poor boy as we all skulked around his front door and knocked. John didn’t seem to be fazed, however, as he answered the door and told us to come in for a second while he put on his shoes.

He lived in a tiny bed-sit similar to Roger’s, with not much other than a small bed, a dresser, a small table and chairs and a couple of bookshelves to occupy the space. I noticed several framed photos of Veronica sitting on one of the bookshelves, and in the corner were all of John’s guitars propped up on guitar stands. Otherwise, the place was pretty plain with peeling beige patterned wallpaper and the tiniest fridge I’d ever seen sitting next to a small counter with a hotplate, which seemed to encompass his entire kitchen. I wondered at times how these British people were able to live in such wretched conditions.

It occurred to Brian as we left John’s place that he needed to swing by his flat and pick up his guitar, so we all headed to Brian’s place next, and watched as he raced through the door of his building, coming out a few minutes later with guitar case and amplifier in hand. Roger and Freddie knew the exact location of the music store where we were all supposed to meet John Harris, so Roger led the way, flying down London’s streets at his usual break-neck speed, almost losing Brian several times as we went. 

As music shops went, it was a relatively small, nondescript place, but apparently the proprietor had ordered all of Queen’s new instruments to their specifications per the request of Trident Studios and the Sheffield brothers. John Harris, with his long shaggy blonde hair, was leaning against the back of his large van just outside the shop’s entrance when we all pulled up.

“It’s about bloody time!” Harris griped, looking down at his watch as we piled out of Roger and Brian’s cars. “I was starting to think you weren’t coming!”

“It’s all Brian’s fault,” Freddie said with a dismissive wave. “We had to chase him down at Carrie’s place, and they were covered in whipped cream from a night of naughty sex, so we had to hose them both down.”

Roger started laughing hysterically at Freddie’s version of the morning’s events, while the two Johns just stared at Brian and me as if they had no idea whether Freddie was serious or not.

“No Mary or Veronica today?” John Harris asked at last with a slight shake of his head, as he waved the guys toward the shop.

“They’re going to come by Imperial after a while,” Freddie explained. “They’re out doing a bit of shopping this morning.”

We walked inside the establishment, jangling a shopkeeper’s bell on the door as we went, and I simply looked around at the merchandise while the guys examined and signed for their new instruments. Roger had a brand new black Ludwig setup, while John had a pretty new Fender bass with a sunburst finish, and Freddie had some new microphones to work with, although, he complained that what he really needed was a shiny black Steinway piano instead. 

The band had also gotten a brand new state-of-the-art PA system for their live shows, which was large, consisting of speakers, stands, spools of wire and a huge mixing board that was going to require a lot of manpower to haul into the back of the van. Harris moved his van around to the large door in the back of the shop, and I simply stood by and watched as he and the guys dragged the new equipment a piece at a time into the backend.

Brian, after all of his protesting that morning that he didn’t need to go with his band mates to pick up their stuff, was now wide-awake and as excited as all the others about their new toys. They were all so busy pouring over every last detail of the new items that I was left to shift for myself for a bit, and found myself in the percussion department looking at the tambourines and maracas and other fun noisy things that I used to play in my old bedroom back home.

I was jangling one of the tambourines when Roger suddenly walked up and tapped me on the shoulder, saying jokingly, “Miss, you’re making too much noise. We’re going to have to ask you to leave.”

“Very funny,” I smirked, setting the tambourine back down.

“You’re not half bad, you know,” Roger commented with a big grin. “You’ve definitely got rhythm.”

“Thanks,” I said, surprised to be receiving such a nice compliment. “Did you come over here for something specific, or did my amazing tambourine skills lure you over into this part of the store?”

“I need some drumsticks actually,” Roger said, turning to his right where an entire wall full of drumstick-filled cubbies greeted him.

“Well, it looks like they’ve got plenty to choose from,” I said, peering around Roger to look at the selection. “I remember I used to play with 7As.”

“7As?” Roger asked, turning to give me a horrified look. “They’re weak! I’d be snapping them like twigs every few minutes if I played with those. I play with 5Bs.”

“Oh, well, sorry if I don’t play like a caveman,” I said sarcastically, making a face at him.

Roger made a face right back at me, and then laughed a little, saying, “You know, I never even got to hear you play in all the time we were together.”

“That’s probably because I’m terrible,” I replied, reaching into the 7A bin to grab out a pair of sticks.

“I doubt it. Knowing how self-deprecating you always are, you’re probably better than you think,” said Roger, as he rifled through various brands of size 5B drumsticks.

“Well, I tell you what,” I grinned at him. “Let me play your new kit today at Imperial, then I can embarrass myself in front of everybody. How does that sound?”

“You really want to play it?” Roger asked, turning toward me with a crooked grin. “I mean, I won’t mind if you do.”

“Sure, why not?” I shrugged, tapping the drumsticks I’d gotten from the bin in a paradiddle pattern on a shelf full of maracas.

“Oh, there you are! I was wondering where you’d gone off to,” Brian said, giving me a big smile as he walked up behind Roger and me.

“I was just looking at the percussion instruments,” I smiled back.

“Do you play percussion?” Brian asked me, slightly taken aback.

“Very little,” I admitted. “I have a drum set and tambourines and maracas and things back home at my parent’s house, but I never played that often.”

“I told her she could play my kit today if she wanted to,” Roger supplied.

“Really?” Brian asked with a bemused look, his arms folded across his chest.

I just sort of shrugged as I slid the drumsticks I’d been playing around with back into the bin.

“You never told me that you knew how to play percussion,” Brian told me in a mock-scolding tone. “You’ve been holding out on me!”

I just laughed and said, “Can you blame me? I hang out with some unbelievably talented musicians these days, and it would be pretty hard to live up to their standards.”

“Who are these talented musicians? Maybe I should go play for them,” Roger said jokingly.

Eventually, everything was loaded up, signed for or paid for, and we all trudged back out to the cars to head over to Imperial College. Brian had talked the staff there into letting Queen use one of the lecture rooms to rehearse in while it sat empty for the summer, and that was where the new instruments would be kept for the time being.

I sat in the front passenger seat of Brian’s Mini, quietly looking out of the window as Brian drove toward his beloved college and chatted with John in the backseat, when a shop called Grandma’s Attic caught my eye. The wooden sign hanging above their door boasted a large blue ball of yarn along with a pair of golden knitting needles, and I desperately wanted to go inside and see what they had to offer.

“Ooh!” I said loudly, pointing out the window. “Can we go there?”

“What? Where?” Brian asked.

“That knitting shop, right back there,” I said, as we flew past the place.

“A knitting shop?” Brian asked skeptically. “You want to go right now?”

“I’ll probably never find it again in this warren’s nest of a town if I don’t go now,” I replied. “I’d only be a few minutes.”

“Um, yeah, I guess that would be all right. I suppose the fellas can start unloading the stuff without our help. What do you reckon, John?” Brian asked.

“I’m okay with it,” John said genially. “It’ll be a shame to miss seeing Freddie actually having to lift and carry things though.”

Brian turned his Mini around, and the three of us backtracked down the street until we found Grandma’s Attic once again. We went inside and started to peruse the merchandise when an elderly lady came wandering over to us from the back of the store asking if we needed any help. She was a typical little old lady of the early 70s, wearing an out-of-date knee-length dress from the 60s and sensible shoes, with her bluish grey hair piled up in a giant knot at the top of her head.

“Oh, I’m just looking for right now, thank you,” I said. I had a feeling that she was the kind of old lady that would talk your ear off if you let her, so I grabbed Brian by the hand and dragged him off toward a wall filled with skeins of yarn at the back of the shop.

“All right, dear, let me know if you need any help,” she called after the two of us. John, unfortunately, wasn’t quite so lucky. He hadn’t made his escape when Brian and I had, and found himself cornered by the old lady, who was telling him what beautiful long hair he had, how pretty his eyes were, and how rare it was to have two handsome young men come into her shop.

I figured I’d better grab whatever it was that I was going to buy before the little old lady started putting the moves on poor John, so I picked out a skein of a dark blue variegated yarn, a skein of a beige and brown variegated yarn, and a skein of a very pretty pale lavender yarn, along with a couple large pairs of knitting needles and a canvas knitting bag that had “Grandma’s Attic” emblazoned across the side.

The three of us left the shop laughing hysterically over John’s new elderly girlfriend, and a few minutes later we pulled up to Imperial College, parking right behind Roger’s Triumph. Freddie and Roger were standing around talking to John Harris behind his van, trying to figure out the best way of getting the large mixing board for the PA system inside the tiny lecture hall.

“Where did you three go?” Roger asked as soon as we got out of the car. “I lost sight of you a few streets back.”

“Carrie found a knitting shop that she wanted to stop at,” Brian smiled, “and we had to pry John out of the arms of the little old lady that ran the place.”

“Knitting shop?” Roger asked me, making a face. “My mum goes to knitting shops.”

“Well, so do I,” I said, holding up my bag of merchandise. “So that must mean that your mother is a lovely woman with excellent taste.”

“Roger’s mother?” Freddie asked with a slight shudder. “Lord, you obviously haven’t met the woman.”

Roger looked at me and laughed and said, “Freddie’s afraid of her.”

“I’m not sure that _afraid_ is really the right word,” Freddie said in his defense. “It’s just that she always seems to be studying me. And she’s forever going on about the creases in my trousers!”

I raised an eyebrow at both Roger and Freddie, and couldn’t help but wonder if I’d dodged yet another bullet where Roger’s mother was concerned. What if I had met her and felt the same way about her that Freddie did? She could have potentially been my mother-in-law for God’s sake, and the grandmother to that whole tribe of little blonde children that Freddie had been hoping that Roger and I would have one day!

I shook such disturbing thoughts from my head, and tried to stay out of the way as the guys hauled the last of the equipment into Imperial College. Once everything was securely inside of the tiny lecture hall, Brian gave me a quick tour of the place, showing me the various spots that he’d been frequenting for several years. He took me to the classrooms where he’d done most of his astronomy work, the library where he’d spent hours pouring over material for his thesis, and the common room where he’d serenaded many a fellow student with his guitar. I could hear the pride in his voice as he talked about his favorite professors and all the support they’d given him through the years, and it was at that point that I realized how important his academic career really was to him. I couldn’t help but wonder what all of his years worth of hard work were going to amount to if and when Queen ever really made it.

We wandered back to the lecture hall, where I sat down off to the left side of the room in one of the theatre style seats, pulling each of my skeins of yarn out of the Grandma’s Attic bag to examine them while the guys were fiddling with their equipment. Roger began setting up his drums on the low stage at the front of the room, John sat tuning his bass on the left side of the stage, and Freddie shouted out orders to John Harris about how he thought the microphones and new PA system should all be set up. Brian, meanwhile, was quietly setting up his guitar equipment across the stage from John, and putting in his two cents worth about the PA system whenever a disagreement broke out. I was enjoying myself as I watched the guys getting everything worked out, and I tried to decide which color yarn I wanted to work with first. I was surprised when Brian took a short break form the chaos and walked over to sit next to me, asking me what I planned on making with my new knitting supplies.

“Well, the only thing that I really know how to make are scarves, so I reckon I’ll make a scarf,” I laughed.

“You know, you’re very clever. I had no idea that you were so multi-talented,” Brian said seriously. “I’m finding out all sorts of things about you today. You can play percussion, you can knit; what other talents do you have that you haven’t told me about?”

“Well, first of all, I play percussion very poorly, and like I said, I can only knit scarves,” I said. “Other than that, I can paint ceramics fairly well, and I’m a pretty decent cross-stitcher.”

“How is it that I’ve never seen you do any of these things?” Brian asked.

“I just haven’t had the time,” I explained. “Since I’ve been in England all my time has been taken up by school or my crazy social life, plus I had so many things to bring across the pond with me, that my crafting supplies all had to stay at home.”

“Well, I’m very curious to see you make something,” Brian said earnestly. “My mum likes to knit you know. A piece from one of her knitting needles is at the end of the tremolo arm on my guitar.”

“Is it really?” I smiled. “I hope you asked her permission before you took it, because we knitters are very fussy about people messing with our stuff, you know.”

“Tell me about it,” Brian replied. “It was like pulling teeth trying to get her to part with one.”

We both laughed, and then I asked him, “So, do you need a scarf?”

“You’d make one for me?” he asked with a little lilt to his voice.

“Of course,” I replied. I held the three different colored yarns that I’d purchased out for his inspection. “What color do you want? You can have any color but the lavender, that one’s mine.”

“Oh, I had my heart set on that one. It’s so masculine,” Brian teased. We both chuckled, and then Brian looked at me and said, “Are you sure you want to make one for me? Why don’t you make one for yourself first?”

“I’ve got plenty of time to make one for each of us,” I said. “Now which color is it going to be? The brown or the blue?”

“I have to admit, I really like the dark blue that you picked out, but only if you’re sure…”

I leaned over and gave Brian a quick kiss and said, “Do you know that you’re too nice for your own good?”

“Okay, fine,” Brian grinned. “I can’t wait to see the finished product then.”

“Well, I’ll get started on it right now,” I said. 

Brian watched with fascination as I took out a brand new set of green metal knitting needles and cast on about 20 stitches. I knitted down the entire row while Brian asked me questions about what part of his scarf that would be when it was finished. I explained that it would be one of the ends, and that after the whole thing was done, I would tie some tassels on if he wanted me too. Of course, in typical Brian style, he said that whatever was easiest for me to make, he would be happy with.

The guys called him over to listen to John’s new bass and see what he thought of the sound, so he gave me a quick kiss and ran off across the room to go check out all the new toys. It didn’t take long before Roger’s drum kit was completely set up with Roger sitting behind it fiddling with all the knobs, trying to get it tuned to his specifications. John’s bass was plugged in to his new amp and sounding fantastic as he and Brian sat playing riffs on their respective instruments. Then it was time to see how the new PA system worked with everything. Microphones were set up at the front of the stage and around Roger’s kit, and Brian and John were plugged in to their amps as everything was run through the mixing board and out to the speakers. Brian hit a chord on his guitar and the sound about knocked me out of my seat. The guys whooped and hollered as John Harris continued to fiddle with knobs and switches to get the sound just right.

“Carrie! How did that sound from out there?” Brian called out to me.

“What?” I called back, rubbing the inside of my right ear with the tip of my finger. “I think I may be deaf now!”

“Perfect! That’s what we want!” Roger yelled out.

I smiled to myself and continued to knit away as the guys started blasting out a version of _Keep Yourself Alive,_ a song that had become one of my favorites. I was quietly singing along with the lyrics when somewhere in the back of my mind I thought that I registered a sound coming from behind me. My ears were in such a state from the loud music that I didn’t think much of it until Brian uncharacteristically hit a seriously sour note. That was when I looked up to see what was going on. Brian, Roger and John had stopped playing and were looking, along with Freddie, toward the back of the lecture hall, so I turned to see what was so interesting. All I saw was Mary and Veronica and some girl that I didn’t recognize walking down the far right aisle between the seats toward the stage. Not exactly something to write home about as far as I was concerned, but when I looked up at Brian, he seemed to have gone a little pale.

“Ah! You made it!” Freddie said, leaping off of the stage and jogging toward Mary and company.

I watched as Freddie quickly pulled Mary aside and quietly instructed Veronica to take the other girl to the right side of the room, away from where I was sitting. The girl with Veronica kept glancing toward the stage, and finally called out, “Hi Brian” in a soft singsong sort of voice. My ears perked up at the familiar sound of my boyfriend’s name, and I sat up a little straighter in my seat to get a better look at the girl. She was cute, but in a plain sort of way, with long brown hair that went all the way down her back, a flattish round sort of face with big blue eyes and a short snub nose. She appeared to be even shorter than me, if that was possible, and had a flat-chested frumpy sort of figure clad in a long plaid skirt and a white blouse. If I had been worried in the past about not being stylish enough, then I shouldn’t have been. Whoever this girl was had me beat by a country mile. 

While I was busy studying what she looked like, Freddie had taken Mary to the back of the lecture hall, trying to talk to her without anyone else listening in. Because of the shape of the room, however, and the fact that it was built with superb acoustics, I was able to hear exactly what was being said.

“Why on earth did you bring her here?” Freddie demanded.

“I didn’t know that Carrie would be here,” Mary replied waspishly.

“Bullshit, darling, she’s always with Brian, and you knew that Brian would be here,” Freddie argued. “And even if she wasn’t here, Brian doesn’t want to see Chrissy for God’s sake! It took him ages to get over that whole mess of a relationship!”

Ah, so it was the infamous Chrissy, was it? The girl who had spent four years with Brian before I came along to pick up the pieces of his broken heart. I narrowed my eyes at her from across the room as I continued to listen in on Freddie and Mary’s conversation.

“What was I supposed to do?” Mary whispered vehemently. “Veronica and I saw her this morning while we were out shopping, and when we told her what our plans were today she said that she wanted to come see the four of you rehearse. I couldn’t exactly tell her no!”

“On the contrary, you could have absolutely told her no!” Freddie exclaimed. He lowered his voice a little then, and said, “You know how upset Carrie can get over these sorts of things…”

“Oh, and of course, Carrie’s feelings have to take precedence over my own!” Mary railed. “Chrissy is still my friend, you know, and I thought it would be nice to spend some time with her again!”

Out of the corner of my eye I could see someone walking down the aisle near to where I was sitting, and looked up to see that it was Brian. He tried to smile away the scowl that was starting to form between his brows as he looked down at me and said, “I’ll be right back” before heading over to Freddie and Mary.

“What is Chrissy doing here?” he demanded in his usual soft-spoken way.

“Brian, I’m sorry, she just sort of invited herself along today, and I didn’t know what to say,” Mary replied quietly. “I didn’t want to hurt her feelings by telling her that she couldn’t come with us.”

“What about my feelings?” Brian argued derisively. “More importantly, what about Carrie’s feelings?”

It was at that point that I set my knitting down, got up, and marched straight over to Brian, Freddie and Mary. If there was one thing in the world that I couldn’t stand, it was people talking about me right under my nose as if I didn’t exist.

“You know, I can hear you guys from over there, and I really don’t like being talked about in the third person,” I stated firmly. 

“I’m sorry,” Brian said, giving me a quick hug. “I didn’t mean to make you feel left out of the conversation. It’s just that… I was worried that you might get upset, because the girl that came in with Mary and Veronica is my ex-girlfriend, Chrissy.”

“So I surmised,” I stated flatly.

“And I was just asking Mary what she was doing here,” Brian went on.

“What _is_ she doing here?” I asked, turning to Mary for an answer.

“Look, if you heard us talking like you say you did, then you already know the answer to that,” Mary said irritably.

“Yeah, I heard you guys, and quite frankly, your reasoning seemed pretty weak to me,” I argued. “If Chrissy is still your friend, then why would you bring her into a potentially explosive situation? Unless, of course, you were _hoping_ that it would turn into an explosive situation so that I would look bad in front of Brian’s ex.”

“I don’t really give a damn what you do!” Mary cried, staring me down with all venom she could muster. “If you want to make yourself look like a jealous bitch the way you’ve done in the past, then that’s up to you…”

“Mary! That’s enough, darling!” Freddie admonished.

Mary went on, completely unfazed, “Like I said, she’s my friend, she’s Veronica’s friend, and if we want her here, then we’re allowed to ask her here! I don’t need to take orders from a spoiled little American like you! And thank you, by the way, for doing nothing but proving Veronica and me right!”

“Right about what?” I asked through narrowed eyes and gritted teeth, contemplating whether or not it would be worth it to finish the conversation outside, as my hands started curling into fists involuntarily.

“About how much better things were before you came into the picture!” Mary hissed. “We were all like a family! All of us Queen girls were quiet, and _English,_ and we all got on! You don’t even _try_ to get on with any of us!”

“Is it any wonder?” Brian shouted at Mary. I actually jumped a little at the sound of his voice. I’d never heard him yell at someone so loudly before. “Look at the way you treat her! Did it ever occur to you that maybe _you’ve_ never tried to get on with _her?!”_

“Brian, it’s all right…” I said, reaching out to touch his arm.

“No, it’s not all right,” Brian said, shaking his head at me. He turned back to Mary and continued on, “How can you possibly say that we all feel like a family to you, when you can’t accept the girl that I love? Whose only crime, so it would seem, is that she’s American for fuck’s sake! And I’m telling you now, if I _ever_ hear you call her a bitch again…”

It was at that moment that I turned and walked away, back down the aisle between the seats so that I could grab my purse. I left my knitting where it was and made my way back up the aisle, heading for the door at the back of the room. 

“Where are you going?” Brian asked, reaching out to gently grab hold of my arm.

“Just out to get some fresh air,” I replied. 

“You don’t need to go anywhere, you haven’t done anything wrong,” Brian said.

“Trust me, I know I haven’t,” I said, looking pointedly across the room at Mary. “Just the same, I need some time to myself.”

“You don’t know this part of London, why don’t you let me come with you…” Brian argued feebly.

“Look at me,” I said, reaching up to cup his face in my hands. “I’ll be fine, I promise.”

I gave Brian a quick reassuring kiss, and walked out the door, hearing the sound of Brian, Freddie and Mary’s raised voices as I left.


	38. Chapter 38

After all of my bravado, it occurred to me as I walked out into the bright sunlit afternoon that Brian was probably right. I didn’t know the area around Imperial College very well, and if I weren’t careful, I would end up getting lost very easily. I mentally cursed myself for having been born without any apparent sense of direction, and walked down the street, paying close attention to street signs and landmarks as I went. 

It didn’t take long before I ran across a small café that served soup and sandwiches and other lunch items, and since I was genuinely hungry, I decided to go inside. I ordered a bowl of chicken noodle soup, which sounded comforting somehow in my time of distress, and a bottle of English lemonade. The place was tiny, with only four small tables for its patrons, and I seemed to be the only person there, which was just fine with me. Solitude was exactly what I was seeking in that moment in order to clear my head.

I got my order from the man behind the counter, and slouched back down in my seat wondering what was going on back at Imperial College. Was everyone still fighting? I wondered. I thought about some the awful things that Mary had said to me, and I shook my head, not sure that I even wanted to think about the situation at all. I remembered that I’d stuck a small novel in my purse before I’d left my flat earlier that day, and pulled it out to read while I ate my soup. Or, at least, that was my plan. I had just gotten through the first paragraph, when Roger suddenly poked his head through the café door, casually saying, “Oh, there you are.”

“What are you doing here?” I asked, quietly closing my novel and setting in down on the table near my bowl.

“Just came to make sure you were okay,” Roger shrugged. He crossed the small space between us and sat down on the chair across from me. 

“How did you find me?”

“I figured you probably didn’t wander very far,” Roger replied. He paused and scowled a little then, saying, “That was some argument back there.”

“Don’t tell me that you’ve come to inform me of what an annoying, spoiled little American bitch I am too,” I said caustically.

“Of course not. Who told you that?” Roger demanded angrily.

“Mary,” I replied. “Didn’t you hear what was being said?”

“No, I was too far back in the room I guess. I only heard raised voices,” Roger replied. “God, no wonder Brian was screaming at her when I left. Had I known what she told you, I would have been too! What else did she say?”

I smiled a little to myself, knowing that Roger still cared enough about me to want to defend me, despite everything that had happened between us.

“Just that everyone got along much better before I came into the picture,” I said. “Especially all of the Queen girls, who, until I came along, were all nice and polite and English, as opposed to be being loud, obnoxious and American, I suppose.”

“That is the biggest load of horse shit that I’ve ever heard!” Roger fumed. “Mary used to bitch about Chrissy behind her back constantly when she was with Brian, talking about how ugly her clothes were, or that she didn’t wear enough make-up. What a hypocrite she is! I can’t believe she said all those things to you!”

Roger just shook his head in disbelief as I silently stared down at my soup.

“Well, you always did say that you thought that she didn’t like you,” Roger went on. “Now I can see why. And I can’t believe that she brought Chrissy along today too, knowing full well that it was just going to piss you off! What was her excuse for that anyway?”

“She told me that she and Veronica are still close friends with Chrissy, and that, regardless of how I feel, they don’t need my permission to hang out with her or invite her around.”

“Unbelievable,” Roger said, shaking his head. “Women are such strange creatures. She was never that close with Chrissy. It’s obvious that she’s just doing this to spite you.”

“You know what,” I began with a dismissive wave, “it’s not even worth worrying about. She’s exactly the kind of girl that I’ve had to deal with my whole life. It’s nothing new.”

“You know what your problem is?” Roger asked.

“What?” I asked in reply.

“You allow other girls to intimidate you, and I don’t understand why,” Roger said. “If I would have said the same things to you that Mary said, you would have taken my head off, but because she’s a girl, you let her get away with it.”

“What was I supposed to do, Roger?” I asked. “Get into a physical altercation with her the way I did with Kim? I’m sure Freddie would have loved that!”

“No, just tell her in no uncertain terms that she’s not allowed to treat you that way,” Roger replied. “That’s what you did with me when we were in Brighton and I said all those stupid things.”

“I don’t know,” I said with a shake of my head. “It’s just different when it’s a girl. I can’t explain why really. I still don’t understand what Mary has against me though. I never have. I mean I know I punched her friend and all that…”

“No, that’s got nothing to do with it,” Roger interrupted, reaching into his pocket for his cigarettes. “The problem is that she’s jealous of you.”

“Jealous of me?” I scoffed. “Right! Why on earth would she be jealous of me?”

“Let’s see, you’re pretty, you’re funny, you’re smart,” Roger said, counting down the comments on his fingers before lighting the cigarette that he’d pulled from his pack. “And, most importantly, Freddie likes you. I mean, not in _that_ way of course, but he likes you. He likes to wind you up, he likes to joke with you, and he absolutely loves the fact that you don’t take any crap off of him! He’s always going on about you when we’re at the market, telling me how he can say anything to you, knowing that you won’t take offense. I’m sure that Mary’s probably not thrilled about that.”

“Great,” I sighed. “So just by being me, and being part of your lives, I’ve managed to cause nothing but arguments and trouble.”

“No, it’s Mary’s problem, not yours,” Roger said, reaching across the table to gently touch my arm. “You’ve got to stop thinking that everything is always your fault. And if you think for one minute that none of us ever argued or fought before you came along, then let me tell you sweetheart, you’re completely wrong. We fought all the time!”

I couldn’t help but feel a little tug at my heart over Roger calling me the old familiar pet name of sweetheart and resting his hand in such a comforting way on my arm. He really was a good guy, I decided. He would forever be a hopeless flirt and womanizer, but he had a good heart. 

I dropped my spoon into my bowl and gave his hand a quick squeeze, saying, “Thanks, Rog. You always did know how to make me feel better.”

“That’s because you and I just go together. We’re like two halves of the same coin,” Roger shrugged. 

“Think so?” I smiled.

“Absolutely,” Roger smiled back. “We understand each other you and I.”

“I’m just curious…” I began slowly, studying his face, “why _did_ you follow me here? I mean really?”

“I don’t know,” Roger shrugged, brushing an invisible piece of dirt off of the table with his hand. “I could tell that you were upset when you left. It’s not like you to go wandering around London by yourself, so I thought I’d find you and make sure you were okay. It’s just the sort of thing that friends do, right?”

“Right,” I said quietly with a small nod.

“I’ve, uh, been meaning to ask you all day…” Roger began, clearly trying to change the subject. “Where did the table and chairs come from in your flat?”

“Oh,” I said, brightening at the thought. “Brian and I got them at the Portobello Road market a while back. One of the table legs was a little wobbly, so Brian fixed it up for me.”

“Did he?” Roger asked with a weak smile. “Well, he’s a thoughtful guy. I’m glad that he takes such good care of you.”

There was a sadness underlying Roger’s voice, and I found myself reliving the pain of our break-up in my mind all over again.

“Roger, you know that I’m always going to feel bad about the way that things ended between us…” I began quietly, absentmindedly playing with the contents of my soup bowl with my spoon.

“Forget it,” Roger interrupted with a dismissive wave. “There’s no point in rehashing it. Things turned out the way that they were supposed to in the end, I guess. I really do hope that you and I can remain friends though. I think the thing that I miss more than anything about our relationship is just getting to talk to you about things. Well, that, and other things I suppose…”

“You couldn’t just leave it at that, could you?” I asked, shaking my head. “You had to bring sex into it.”

“Well, I mean, come on,” Roger teased with that same old mischievous gleam in his eyes. “You have to admit that we were pretty good at it.”

“You’re hopeless,” I laughed. I looked down at my cold bowl of soup and said, “Are you ready to head back?”

“Yeah, hopefully things have calmed down by now,” Roger said.

I decided that it was a shame to waste my soup after I’d paid good money for it, so I got up and walked to the counter, procuring a small Styrofoam bowl and lid from the owner of the place. I poured the soup inside and took it, along with my purse and lemonade, leaving the café with Roger by my side.

On the way back to Imperial I asked Roger to tell me more about his new drum set, figuring that that was a relatively safe topic for us. He explained to me that it was a basic five piece, but that he’d added a few extras to it, like a couple more cymbals and a second floor tom.

“Do you still want to play it?” he grinned at me.

“I guess so, although I’ve got to tell you, I’m pretty rusty. I haven’t played in years,” I said.

Then, just as we were approaching the entrance to Imperial College, a car that was parked a little way down the road caught my eye. I could only see the back fender, but I could tell immediately what it was – an American Ford Mustang from the mid 1960s – something more rare in England than three sunny days strung together in a row.

“Ooh, Roger, come here! You’ll appreciate this,” I said, jogging down the sidewalk toward the car in question. Roger followed right behind me, as the sun gleamed upon the car’s shiny red paint job. I stood in complete awe and sighed, saying, “A 1965 cherry red Mustang.”

“Wow! Don’t see many of these around London!” Roger enthused. “How do you know it’s a ’65?”

“See these chrome pieces on the sides?” I asked. “Only the ’64 ½ and the ’65 models were shaped like this. And if you look in the back, this car has back up lights, the ’64 ½ model didn’t.”

“I’ve never been more attracted to you than I am right now,” Roger said, staring at me with his mouth slightly open.

“Don’t you start!” I laughed, pointing an admonishing finger at him. I turned my attention back to the car and ran a hand over the back fender lovingly, saying, “My first car looked almost exactly like this, only mine was a ’64 ½ and was painted white.”

“What happened to it?” Roger asked.

“I sold it for the car that I have now, my ’69 Camaro,” I explained. “God, this makes me wish that I had my car over here so that I could show you what a real car can do.”

I smirked at Roger as I said it, knowing full well that I’d get a rise out of him.

“Hey, my car would beat yours any day of the week!” Roger exclaimed.

“Yeah right!” I snorted. “My Camaro is two tons of America’s finest steel, baby!”

“Sounds heavy and slow to me,” Roger argued.

“Not with a 200 horse power, 307 Chevy small block V8 sitting under the hood,” I argued, my hands planted firmly on my hips.

“Yeah, well…” Roger spluttered, looking for a rebuttal. “That poor car of yours has been driven by a girl this whole time, so it’s probably never lived up to its full potential. If you want to see it really go fast, you’d have to let me drive it.”

“Ha!” I cried. “I wouldn’t let you get within 20 feet of the driver’s seat of my car!”

We walked back into the college laughing and egging each other on about who’s car was the fastest, and when we entered the lecture room, I was surprised to find that everything was eerily quiet. No music was playing, nobody was arguing, there was just the low rumble of people quietly talking, and the sound of John Harris tinkering with the guy’s equipment.

Deaky and Veronica were up on the stage sitting together while John fiddled with his new bass, Freddie was with John Harris looking over the controls on the sound board, Mary was sitting by herself clear across the hall from where I had been sitting, and Brian was… sitting with Chrissy?

“There you two are!” Freddie called out as we walked in. “I was starting to think that we were going to have to call out the militia to go find you!”

He seemed to be reveling in the fact that Roger and I were together, and walked over to us with a slightly salacious grin and quietly asked, “So where have you two been all this time, anyway? You both seem to be smiling an awful lot.”

I gave Freddie a withering look, not appreciating his little innuendo about Roger and me one bit.

“I was eating soup,” I stated flatly, showing Freddie my Styrofoam cup. “We were sitting in a café.”

“Well, if your soup is with you, darling, then it doesn’t seem like you were doing much eating,” Freddie grinned.

I narrowed my eyes at Freddie, unable to believe that he was still harboring false hopes that Roger and I would somehow get back together. If it wasn’t for the fact that I saw Brian walking toward us out of the corner of my eye, I might have gone off on him.

“There you are!” Brian said to me. He threw his arms around me, hugging me tight, and said, “I was starting to get worried about you. Where did you go?”

“I’m fine,” I said. “I was just around the corner at a café having some soup.”

I held up my leftovers to prove that what I was saying was true.

“Well, I’m glad you’re okay,” Brian said, running his hands over my arms and looking me up and down just to make sure that I was still in one piece. Then he looked at me a little sheepishly as he asked, “I almost hate to ask this, but do you feel like meeting my ex? She’s very curious about you.”

“I take it you told her about me while I was gone?” I asked, seeing Chrissy glancing over her shoulder at me from across the room.

“She actually felt really bad, thinking that she had caused the argument that made you leave,” Brian explained. “She didn’t know that I was with someone else now, or she wouldn’t have come.”

I nodded slowly, not entirely sure how much I believed that. After all, if Mary and Veronica were still such good friends with Chrissy, then why wouldn’t they have told her that Brian had a new girlfriend?

“It’s not going to end in fisticuffs if I talk to her, is it?” I said only half jokingly.

“I don’t think Chrissy’s going to say or do anything to upset you,” Brian smiled. “Come on…”

He reached for my hand and led me over to where I’d been sitting before I left. Chrissy, I noticed, was now occupying my seat. She stood up as Brian and I approached, giving me an awkward smile as Brian said, “Chrissy, I’d like to introduce you to my girlfriend Carrie, Carrie this is Chrissy.”

“Nice to meet you,” I said, trying to sound as polite as possible, as I extended my hand somewhat reluctantly. I knew I was being petty, but I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t stand the visions that were creeping into my head as I stood there looking at her. Thoughts of her in Brian’s arms, kissing Brian, and doing God knows what else with Brian made me feel sick in the pit of my stomach.

“Nice to meet you. Brian’s been telling me all about you,” Chrissy said in a quiet voice as she took my hand. “He says you’re from California.”

“Yes, I am,” I said, attempting to smile. What in the world was I supposed to say to her? I thought to myself. She’d spent four years with the man that I loved. Four years where she’d touched him and laughed with him and most likely spent her spare moments secretly planning their wedding and wondering what their children would look like. I couldn’t stand it, and I’d never felt so uneasy in all my life. I searched for something, anything, that I knew about her so that I could at least make polite conversation. “So, I hear you go to a Catholic school?”

“Yes,” she answered, looking as though she were every bit as uncomfortable as I was. “Or, I did, anyway. I just graduated recently.”

“Ah, well, congratulations. Was it a teacher training college?” I asked.

“Yes, Maria Assumpta Teacher Training College,” she affirmed.

“So, you’re planning on working as a teacher then?” I asked, and then kicked myself mentally. No, you idiot, I thought to myself, she went to a teacher training school to become a firefighter! What do you think?? I quickly tried to recover myself and said, “I mean, are you planning on working with young kids, or…?”

“I’m not really sure yet,” she smiled softly. “Any school that offers me a job, really, I suppose.”

I just nodded and smiled at her awkwardly, trying desperately to think of anything more that I could say to her, but it was like my brain had gone into meltdown mode. It wasn’t that I was purposefully trying to be rude or anything, it was just that standing near her, and having to look into her big blue eyes, knowing that she probably knew more about Brian than I did, made me feel insecure, and I didn’t like it. I couldn’t help but wonder too, as I stood gazing into her shy, upturned face, what Brian’s parents, whom I’d become so close with over the past several weeks, had thought of her. I mean, she was probably every parent’s dream daughter-in-law, right? She was cute and sweet and went to a nice religious school where she had learned to be a good, well-mannered little schoolteacher. I could practically see the polished halo gleaming brightly above her head, and it made me feel nauseous.

“Well, it looks like Mary is all alone over there, so I probably ought to go see how she’s doing,” Chrissy said at last, clearly unable to think of much else to say to me either. “It was nice talking with you, Brian. Let me know about that camping trip, it sounds like fun.”

Camping trip? I thought to myself. What in the hell was she talking about?

“Nice to meet you,” she nodded briefly at me before walking across the lecture hall to where Mary sat.

“Well, that was awkward,” Brian said. “Why didn’t you talk more?”

“What was I supposed to say to her, Brian? She’s your ex-girlfriend.”

“I don’t know,” Brian shrugged. “But it’s usually not like you to be unfriendly.”

“I wasn’t being unfriendly,” I protested. “I just don’t know what to say to her. Think about it from my point of view. You spent four years of your life with her. I can’t help it if I’m a little jealous.”

“Okay, I get it,” Brian soothed, wrapping me in his arms for a big hug. “But you’ve got nothing to be jealous about. I don’t feel that way about Chrissy anymore. And if nothing else, seeing her today has proven that to me. I would like to remain on friendly terms with her though, just so there’s no hard feelings.”

I supposed that there wasn’t much that I could say about that really, since I was still on friendly terms with Roger.

“What was she saying about a camping trip?” I asked, looking up at Brian’s face.

“Oh! I nearly forgot,” Brian said, pulling away from me slightly in order to see me better. “Apparently Roger told Freddie that he wants us all to go on a camping trip in July for my birthday and his. He knows all sorts of people down in Cornwall, and one of them owns a bed & breakfast along with a campsite.”

“Funny, he didn’t say anything about it to me while we were out,” I said.

Brian gave me a puzzled look. “Was he with you?”

“He showed up at the café while I was eating my soup, and we talked for a bit,” I explained.

Brian scowled slightly as he looked across the room toward Roger, who was standing with Freddie looking over the new sound system. “Should I be concerned?” Brian asked, looking back down at me.

“Of course not,” I said reassuringly. “If anything, you should be happy that I’m trying to get along with everyone so that we can be one big happy family just like Mary wants.”

“Yeah, well, I had a few choice words for Mary after you left, and so did Freddie,” Brian told me. “I understand now why you’ve never felt that she likes you. It’s obvious that she’s jealous of you or something.”

“Roger said the same thing,” I laughed.

“Well, for once he’s right,” Brian replied. “All I can say is that Mary had damn well better not say anything like that to you ever again, and she damn well owes you an apology as well!”

I couldn’t help but smile over Brian’s angry defense of me.

“Have I told you lately how much I love you, Mr. May?” I asked, wrapping my arms around his waist.

“No, you haven’t, Mrs. May,” Brian grinned.

“Well then, I love you, very, very much,” I smiled, reaching up to give him a kiss.

Again, I knew that it was petty of me, but I laid the kiss on pretty thick, hoping that across the room there was a short girl with long brown hair and big blue eyes watching us. As I thought about Chrissy, her parting words to Brian came to the forefront of my thoughts once more.

I pulled away from Brian and said, “Um, question for you. Why does Chrissy know about the camping trip, and why is she expecting you to keep her informed about it?”

Brian gave me a slightly guilty look, and said, “I happened to be talking to her when Freddie told me about it. He more or less invited her before I could say anything to the contrary.”

“Did he now?” I asked, forcing a smile.

That interfering son of a bitch, I thought to myself. What was this, some sort of a ploy to see if he could throw Brian and Chrissy back together? And if he did, then what? Did he think that that would leave the door open for Roger and me to get back together? He was delusional! 

“Are you going to be okay with this?” Brian asked me.

“I don’t know. How do you feel about her going?” I asked Brian as calmly as I could.

“I don’t care whether she’s there or not to be honest. It sounds like Roger’s asking a lot of old friends to go. But, if it’s going to bother you, then obviously I don’t want her there,” Brian said.

“I trust you,” I shrugged. “If you tell me that you don’t have feelings for her anymore, then I believe you.”

“I love you so much,” Brian sighed, pulling me in for a tight hug. “Believe me when I say that you’re the only one that I want.” 

He rested his head on top of mine, and I could feel his hair hanging down and tickling the side of my face. My ear always rested perfectly against his chest where the sound of his heartbeat made me feel like everything was right with the world.

“Hey you two,” Roger suddenly said, as he approached us from across the room.

“What’s up Rog?” Brian asked, lifting his head off of mine, but keeping his arms wrapped firmly around me.

“Did Freddie tell you about the camping trip?” Roger asked with a scowl.

“Yeah, why?” Brian asked.

“That bastard, I wanted to tell you!” Roger complained. “I planned it for our birthdays, so I wanted the news to come from me.”

“Oh, well, it’s all right,” Brian soothed. “I think it sounds like a great idea. I’m really looking forward to it. And to be honest, Freddie didn’t really give me a lot of details, so you and I can sit down one of these days and talk more about it.”

“Yeah, all right,” Roger pouted. Then he looked at me and asked, “Hey were you still interested in trying out my drums?”

“That’s right! Are you still going to play for us?” Brian asked me with a big smile.

“Sure, why not,” I said. “It’s already been a difficult enough day, so I may as well embarrass myself on top of everything else.”

Roger led the way up to the small stage with Brian and me trailing behind him, one arm still wrapped around each other. I sat down behind Roger’s kit while Brian walked over to pick up his guitar and toss the strap over his shoulder. Roger handed me his sticks, and stood off to my side watching with an amused grin as I tried to familiarize myself with his setup. I hit the bass drum a few times with my right foot, clamped the hi-hat shut with my left, and banged out a few sixteenth notes across the snare drum and tom-toms before bashing one of the crash cymbals.

Roger and Brian both exchanged a look that said, “Not bad.”

“It really has been a long time since I’ve played, guys,” I said. “But I think I can still remember how to do a pretty decent Mersey beat.”

“Okay, let’s hear it,” Roger smiled.

I took a deep breath and hit three consecutive notes on the snare drum as a lead in, then hit the bass drum and crash cymbal together before tapping out eighth notes on the hi-hat and hitting a double beat on the snare. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Brian walk over to John and say something, and the next thing I knew, the two of them were strumming out the opening chords of The Beatles’ version of the song _Money._ As if I hadn’t been nervous already! I was only supposed to be fooling around, not jamming with the members of Queen for God’s sake!

Not wanting to be left out, Freddie came dashing up onto the stage and grabbed up his microphone, then plucked John’s microphone off of his stand as well, handing it to Roger. They both joined in the song with Freddie singing lead and Roger doing the background vocals, and I had to admit, we didn’t sound too bad! 

When we got to the end of the song we all finished big, with Brian hitting a major chord, me smashing the cymbals, and Freddie and Roger hitting the highest notes they could hit.

“Yeah!” Brian shouted. 

“That was fun!” Freddie cried. He punched me lightly on the shoulder and exclaimed, “Why haven’t you told us that you can play?”

“Cause I really can’t,” I shrugged. “What you just heard is about all I can do.”

“Oh come on, if you can do that then you can do anything you set your mind to,” Roger said. “You just need to play more often.”

“Well, we’ll see,” I shrugged, setting Roger’s drumsticks on one of his floor toms as I slowly turned and got up from his kit.

Brian grinned as I walked toward him. “You were really good,” he said.

“Thanks,” I said, rolling my eyes in a self-deprecating way. “Are you going to teach me how to play the guitar next?”

“Anytime you want,” Brian smiled.

I reached up to wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him toward me for a kiss, and out of the corner of my eye, I could see Chrissy look away from us uncomfortably. It dawned on me in that moment that while Brian might not have feelings for Chrissy any longer, I had no idea whether or not Chrissy might still have feelings for Brian. I supposed that we were going to have lots of time together down in Cornwall in the month of July to find out though, thanks to Freddie and his big mouth. I had a feeling that Roger’s camping trip would prove to be very interesting if nothing else…


	39. Chapter 39

The next few weeks ended up being a bizarre mix of late nights and quiet days at home. By the beginning of June, the guys were going into the studio to work on their first album, something they’d been looking forward to with much excitement for months. The problem was that they were only allowed to record in the dead of night when larger acts weren’t using the space, meaning that whether Brian and I were at his place or mine, the phone was ringing off the hook nearly every night at odd hours as someone from the studio tried to track Brian down. It sort of became commonplace after a while, and I would occasionally go with Brian to the studio to see how things were going. But after a couple of nights falling asleep on a cold uncomfortable couch at Trident, only to be woken up at six A.M. and dragged home bleary eyed by Brian, I decided to let the guys do their thing while I stayed at home in my nice comfy bed. Not that it mattered much anyway though. I’d become so accustomed to feeling Brian’s warm body next to mine every night that I couldn’t sleep without him anymore. So I ended up watching TV until the test patterns came on, then knitted or read in bed until my eyes couldn’t stay open any longer. It wasn’t unusual for Brian to come home and find me splayed out across the bed clutching my latest novel to my chest as I slept soundly away.

Eventually we both became so used to these late hours, that even when Brian wasn’t at the studio, we were up late talking, playing games or having sex into the early hours of the morning. It was amazing the things you could find to occupy your time when you couldn’t sleep. Half of the time we just sat around organizing all the photos that we were constantly taking, putting them in into photo albums, making sure that they went in in the exact order that they were taken, and I was pretty sure that I was one of the few people in London baking cookies at three o’clock in the morning. My home made chocolate chip variety had become a favorite of Brian’s, and when we found ourselves feeling a little peckish in the middle of the night, nothing seemed more desirable than a warm cookie and a glass of milk. It was a very strange existence that we were suddenly living. It was as if we had jetlag, but we hadn’t gone anywhere. Getting up at noon everyday suddenly seemed like a perfectly normal thing.

At some point in early June I also asked my landlord about the possibility of using the little patch of dirt behind my building for a vegetable garden, and he was more than willing to let me, provided that I took good care of the garden, kept it neat and tidy, and, of course, shared a bit of my bounty with him. I agreed to his terms, and by the middle of June Brian and I had a thriving little vegetable patch with beans, peas, cucumbers, carrots, celery and tomatoes all sprouting and getting bigger by the day. Whenever the sun was shining, the garden was usually where Brian and I could be found most afternoons throughout the beginning of summer.

As July rolled around, the big camping excursion to celebrate Brian & Roger’s birthdays was quickly approaching, and a couple of weeks before the trip we had a small gathering at Roger’s place to discuss all the details. Nine of us ended up squeezing into Roger’s tiny bed-sit, including Roger himself, Freddie & Mary, Brian & me, John & Veronica, and John Harris and his girlfriend Margaret, or “Mags” as everyone called her. Roger had apparently given the whole camping trip quite a bit of thought, and had most of the details already worked out. We were going to a town called Perranporth in Cornwall where we would stay at a campsite called Tollgate Farm. It was a large piece of property owned by a couple named Mike and Janet, who were friends with Roger’s mother Winifred. Roger had talked with Mike and Janet, and told them that we would need space for several tents along with the necessary camping equipment, and they obligingly told him that not only did they have the perfect spot for us, but they could supply some of the things we would need as well.

Roger informed us that Tollgate Farm was not just a campground, but also a bed & breakfast and real working farm as well, with lots of animals and plenty of charm. Unlike most campgrounds, they actually had decent toilets and showers that we could use, and even a small laundry room if we needed to wash clothes. It was right next to the beach and a nightclub called The Watering Hole, so we’d have plenty to keep us busy during our stay.

In addition to all the people at Roger’s that were going, we discovered that there would also be five of Roger’s friends from Cornwall joining us as well named Rik, Doug, Eileen, Debbie and Jill. The last two had apparently been the girls that I’d seen with Roger at the Marquee Club when we’d gone to see Rory Gallagher. Brian’s ex-girlfriend Chrissy had also been invited, much to my chagrin, along with her best friend of several years, April. All told, there would be sixteen of us trying to squeeze into about eight small tents. I asked Roger about food, drinks, dishes, cooking supplies and the like, and who was going to be bringing what. Roger explained that Mike and Janet would supply the tents, camping stoves, sleeping bags and cookware, along with folding chairs and extra dishes from their bed & breakfast. As far as food went, everybody was going to have to pitch in and bring what they could.

“Where are we going to keep the food?” I asked. “And what about a place to wash the dishes?”

“I’ve got some old wooden bookshelves that I could load in my van and bring along to store the food and dishes on,” John Harris volunteered.

“And Doug and Rik are bringing a couple of big ice chests to keep drinks and things in,” Roger added.

“Okay, good,” I said. “If someone could bring a couple plastic or metal tubs of some sort to wash the dishes in, then it sounds like we’ll be all set.”

Freddie, I noticed, had been very quiet the whole time we were discussing things, looking slightly uneasy, when he suddenly asked, “And, um, how big did you say these tents were again, Rog?”

“I don’t know,” Roger shrugged. “Tent size.”

“And that’s where we’ll be sleeping for sure?” Freddie asked.

“Don’t worry, Fred, you’ll live,” Roger told his friend with a crooked grin.

“Yeah, Fred, it’ll be fine,” Brian chimed in. “We’ll make sure the bogey man doesn’t get you.”

“Very funny,” Freddie sneered. He puffed up his chest and said, “Trust me, if you two girls can sleep in a tent, then so can I!”

I had to suppress a laugh as I tried to imagine Freddie surviving without his fine China teacups and Egyptian cotton bed sheets for ten days.

The date was set for everyone to arrive in Cornwall on July 18th, where we would all stay until July 28th, encompassing both Roger and Brian’s birthdays. I decided that I’d better do something about procuring some birthday presents one afternoon, and struck out on my own in London while Brian was sleeping off another long night at the studio. I left a note on the nightstand in case Brian woke up wondering where I was at, and headed out, praying that I wouldn’t get lost.

Even though Roger was no longer my boyfriend, I felt like I had to do something for him since we were going to be celebrating his birthday on the trip as well as Brian’s. We actually had become close friends, the two of us, despite our painful breakup, and I had an idea that had been kicking around in my head since the days when Roger and I had been together. I had a box of small trinkets that I’d brought with me from America, and one of the items was an old American liberty silver dollar. Roger had fallen in love with it during the many weeks he’d spent at my flat all those months before, so I decided to have a hole drilled through it at a jewelers shop and have it turned into a necklace for him. It wasn’t much, really, but I knew that he’d like it. For Brian, on the other hand, I wanted to get something really special. I knew that he’d seen some antique cameras and things that he’d admired while we’d been shopping on our night out in Hampstead, so I thought I’d take the trip across town and see what I could find.

I braved the London underground, and thankfully made it to Hampstead in one piece. I found a small jewelry shop that I stopped in first to have Roger’s necklace made, and while the shop owner was working on that, I managed to find the antique shop that Brian and I had gone into before. I looked through all the antique cameras, but I realized fairly quickly that I knew next to nothing about any of them. I found an old Kodak camera with folding bellows that looked interesting and appeared to be from around the late 19th century, but I had no idea if such a thing would still work properly, or if you could even get film for it. I didn’t want to buy Brian something that looked cool but was completely useless. Then, it was as if the Gods decided to smile down upon me, as a small shaft of light glinted off of an old bit of brass to my right. I set the camera down and reached for what appeared to be an old telescope or spyglass of some sort. It was about three to four feet long, looked to be in immaculate condition, and was just the sort of thing that I knew Brian would love.

I was attempting to look through the eyepiece when the owner of the shop suddenly appeared from out of nowhere, nearly scaring me half to death, and asked if I needed any assistance.

“Yes, I was just curious if you could tell me a bit about this?” I asked, hastily putting the object back where I’d gotten it from.

The shop owner told me that it was a telescope dating from around 1915, that it was still in perfect working condition, and that it also came with a wooden stand that was folded up and lying beneath it. It was a stunningly beautiful object, and I was almost afraid to ask the price. When I found out that it was seven pounds, I really wasn’t sure if I’d be able to afford it. Plus, I had a feeling that Brian would have a fit once he found out how much I’d spent on him. But then I pictured him with it, looking up at the night sky like a little boy with a new toy, and I just knew I had to have it.

“I’ll take it,” I announced.

The shopkeeper was able to find a cardboard box large enough for it in his back room, which I was extremely grateful for, because otherwise I had no idea how I was going to wrap such a massive thing. I shelled out the seven pounds and took my newly acquired antique telescope off with me down the street to see if Roger’s necklace was ready. I was happy to discover that it was, and that the jeweler had done a fantastic job setting my old coin onto a long, heavy silver chain. It definitely looked like the sort of thing Roger would wear, I decided. I paid for the chain and the work the jeweler had done, only a pound when all was said and done, and received a nice little square box to wrap it up in. The only thing left to do was to get some wrapping paper, bows and a couple of birthday cards, and my shopping would be complete.

It quickly became apparent that packing around a large telescope everywhere I went, including up and down the stairs of the London underground, was exhausting work. I stopped by the Boots near my flat and looked for birthday cards and wrapping supplies. I found a funny card for Roger, and a sweet romantic card for Brian, along with a roll of striped wrapping paper and a couple of matching bows, paid for all of it, and then asked the lady behind the counter if she would mind if I wrapped my gifts there in the shop. She looked at me a little strangely at first, but when I explained that the large box I was holding was a surprise for my boyfriend, who was at my flat, she was only too happy to oblige, even supplying me with a pair of scissors and some scotch tape. I signed the cards and taped each one on the front of the corresponding gift, and I was off toward home, tired and desperately in need of something to eat.

I walked into my flat to find Brian sitting on the couch with his guitar on his lap, strumming out a melody that I hadn’t heard before. He looked up and saw that I was carrying something large and wrapped in shiny paper, and immediately jumped up off the couch to come to my aid and help me haul it inside.

“Where have you been? I was worried about you,” he said, bending down to give me a quick kiss. “What in the world is this?”

“Oh, just a little something I picked up,” I smiled, setting my purse and Roger’s gift on the kitchen table.

Brian spotted his name on the card’s envelope, and said, “What did you do?”

I just shrugged and replied, “You’ll have to wait and see when we’re down in Cornwall I guess.”

Brian shook his head and said, “This is big! I hope you didn’t spend very much.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I laughed. 

Brian lifted up his gift and set it on the table, shaking it subtly just like a kid on Christmas morning, and was amazed at how heavy it was. 

“How did you get this home?” he asked. “Did you have to carry it the whole way?”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said again. “I’m here aren’t I? I didn’t get lost, for once, and I was able to do what I wanted to do without asking for any help. I think I’m finally getting my bearings in this crazy town of yours.”

“Is the other gift for Roger?” Brian asked.

“Yeah, it’s not much,” I replied. “I had an old American silver dollar that Roger used to play around with all the time, so I took it to a jeweler’s and had them turn it into a necklace for him.”

“Oh. He should like that,” Brian said quietly. “I wish I could have seen it before you wrapped it.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “Since I had to wrap your gift while I was out, I thought I might as well wrap Roger’s too.”

“You’ve gone to too much trouble as usual,” Brian said with a shake of his head.

“Oh shush,” I teasingly scolded, wrapping my arms around his waist. “Maybe I like going to too much trouble for my boyfriend.”

By July 14th preparations were well under way for the trip. Brian and I went grocery shopping and bought plenty of canned and boxed foods to take with us, along with things like dish soap (which I doubted anyone else would have the foresight to bring), toilet paper and paper napkins. We also filled a duffle bag full of toiletries like soap, toothpaste, shampoo, deodorant, etc., and packed up our most comfortable clothing, like jeans, t-shirts, sweatshirts, and lots of spare socks and undies.

By the time the 18th rolled around, we were ready to hit the road. We packed the trunk and piled the backseat of Brian’s little Mini with all of our groceries, clothes, toiletries, Brian’s favorite acoustic guitar, both of our cameras, plenty of film, flashlights, batteries, a transistor radio, the birthday gifts I’d purchased and anything else we could think of that we might need. Had we been able to pack the kitchen sink, then I’m sure that it would have been thrown into the mix too, just for good measure. Brian had also been able to borrow a large sleeping bag from his parents, just in case there weren’t enough to go around once we got to Cornwall, along with a couple of kerosene lanterns and a tea kettle with a tripod that was specifically made to go over a campfire. We were about as prepared and ready as we were going to get.

The drive ended up being a long one by British standards, a total of 4 ½ hours. We left my place around nine o’clock in the morning, and by the time we reached Somerset, Brian and I were both ready to get out and stretch for a bit and grab a quick bite to eat. We found a café where we could get a couple of sandwiches and bottles of Coke to go, and then we were back on the road again, eating and talking and having a great time the rest of the way.

We followed Roger’s directions into Perranporth, and found Tollgate Farm relatively easily. It was a big place, with a large two-story house surrounded by farmland, campgrounds and a children’s play area. The ocean came into view as we crested a hill and pulled onto the property, and I had to admit, Roger couldn’t have picked a more idyllic place for us to camp.

We saw Roger up ahead, unloading things out of the trunk of his Triumph with the help of a man and a woman and two small children. Brian honked and waved, and we pulled up beside Roger’s car with the two children running toward us and waving back excitedly.

“Hey! You made it okay!” Roger called as Brian and I hoisted our stiff bodies out of the car.

“Yeah, I always seem to forget what a long drive this is,” Brian laughed, stretching and twisting his back muscles.

“Lucky me, I get to drive it all the time,” Roger said sarcastically. Then he motioned toward Brian and me as he told the man and woman, “Mike, Janet, I’d like to introduce my friends Brian and Carrie. Brian, Carrie, this is Mike and his wife Janet. They own the property here. And these are their kids Eric and Stephanie.”

“Nice to meet you,” we all said to each other, as we took turns shaking hands.

“I’m five!” the little girl named Stephanie announced, as she bounced up to me and tugged at the hem of my t-shirt.

“You are?” I asked, giving her a big grin. “That’s pretty cool. I remember when I was five. I had a really nice teacher named Mrs. Beard that played the piano.”

“My teacher’s name is Mrs. Whittlesby, and she doesn’t play the piano,” Stephanie explained, sounding slightly forlorn. Then she cocked her head to the side and looked at me very seriously as she said, “You talk funny.”

“Stephanie!” her father reprimanded.

“It’s okay,” I laughed. I looked at Stephanie and replied, “You’re right. I do talk funny. It’s because I’m from America.”

Not to be outdone and see his sister get all the attention, the boy Eric then hopped over to me on one foot and said, “I go to school with a boy from America. His name is Christopher. He talks funny too.”

“Yes, all of us silly Americans talk pretty funny. Some funnier than others,” I explained, and did my best impersonation of a Texas accent for their entertainment.

Both of the kids thought this was hilarious, and began giggling uncontrollably.

“Do people from Texas wear cowboy hats?” Stephanie asked as she reached out to hold my hand.

“They do wear cowboy hats,” I answered. “And they have lots of cows in Texas with really long horns.”

“We have loads of cows here too,” Eric said.

“I can see that,” I said, looking around at their vast property. “You two can show me all of your animals later on if you want to, okay?”

“Okay,” they both sang out together, and just like that they were off again, skipping and hopping around, laughing and chasing each other.

“Well, you’ve made some friends already,” Roger smiled at me, as he pulled a heavy box out of the trunk of his car.

“I hope they won’t bother you too much while you’re here,” Janet said, giving me a slightly worried look.

“It’s okay, I love kids,” I said, waving away her concern.

Roger continued to unload his car while Brian and I did the same, and Mike and Janet were more than helpful as they offered to assist the three of us in carrying our things to the campsite. We were staying at what was called the “Meadow” campground, and I was surprised to see that the couple already had tents set up and ready to go for us, along with a smattering of folding chairs and several wooden picnic tables.

Before long John Harris’ big white van pulled up carrying him, his girlfriend Mags, Freddie, Mary, John and Veronica. We quickly greeted each other and kept unloading our things, well, all except for Freddie, who was examining the flimsy tents as if he had a bad taste in his mouth. Nobody else seemed to have a problem with the accommodations, however, and we each began picking the tents that we wanted. They all looked pretty much the same really, each one being an ugly army green sort of color, but nonetheless, we all took turns poking our heads inside each tent, trying to find the one that we thought would suit us best. In the end, Brian and I picked the one closest to the campfire, Roger chose the one that was next to ours, and John and Veronica were across the way sandwiched between Freddie and Mary on one side and John Harris and his girlfriend on the other. Once the ownership of each tent was established, the guys hauled the large wooden bookcases up to the campsite from Harris’ van, and Mary, Veronica and I actually worked together, though we didn’t speak much, to start putting the food away.

Janet had gone inside the house to get the dishes and cookware she and her husband were going to be lending us, and informed us when she came back that a girl named Chrissy was on the phone saying that she and her friend were at the train station waiting for someone to pick them up.

Oh joy, I thought cynically to myself. Well, we certainly wouldn’t want to keep them waiting, now would we?

“I could go get them,” Brian volunteered, “but I’m not really sure how to get to the train station from here.”

“I’ll come with you and show you the way,” Roger offered.

I gave Brian a quick kiss goodbye, and off he and Roger went. It irritated me to no end that he was catering to his ex-girlfriend’s needs, but I tried to quell my jealousy as best I could, knowing that it would only make matters worse in the end.

While the two of them were gone, the rest of us continued to set everything up, creating a little kitchen area with one of the picnic tables acting as a make-shift cooking and dish-washing area. We had the camping stove and a couple of metal tubs set up just for that purpose. The bookshelves were nearby filled with food items, dishes, silverware, napkins and the like, and as soon as the ice-chests arrived, then those too would be added to the mix.

Soon a couple more cars pulled into the campground, one consisting of two guys and a girl, and one with just two girls. These were obviously Roger’s Cornwall friends, and out of the five of them, the only ones that I recognized were the girls from the Marquee Club. Since Roger wasn’t around, I took it upon myself to greet everyone as they walked into the camp. We all introduced ourselves, and soon Freddie and John were popping their heads out of their tents, looking to see who’d arrived. Roger’s friends Rik and Doug instantly remembered the two of them and greeted them with warm handshakes and laughter, asking how they’d been since the last time Queen was in Cornwall for a gig. I showed the newcomers which tents were available and which ones weren’t, and soon Rik and Doug were piling their things inside of one tent while the three girls were gathering their things to put away in another.

I returned to my little kitchen area, observing all of Roger’s Cornwall friends as they milled around, and tried to get a feel for the people that I was going to be spending the next ten days of my life with. Out of all of them, the only one I really had a good first impression of was Doug. He was average in height, probably around 5’8” or 5’9”, had a medium build and shaggy shoulder length brown hair, and seemed to be friendly and polite. Rik I wasn’t so sure about. I got the feeling just by listening to him talk and watching his body language that he could be trouble, and something about his shaggy appearance and the mischievous glint in his eyes told me that when he and Roger got together, they could create chaos wherever they went. He was a relatively nice looking guy though I had to admit. He was tall, probably around 6’ or 6’1”, with long dark hair and scruffy lamb chop sideburns, and he happened to have that pretty combination of dark hair and light eyes that I always found attractive. His mouth, I noticed, seemed to be curled into a perpetual smirk, much like the kind I’d seen gracing Roger’s face many a time, and I knew instinctively that he was one that I was going to have to watch out for.

As for the girls, they seemed to be the sort that would hang around with Roger – pretty, ditzy and irritating – except perhaps for the girl Eileen, whom I knew had been a girlfriend of Roger’s from years before. She was petite, like me, had shoulder length dark brown hair and brown eyes, and seemed relatively quiet and shy. She certainly didn’t seem like the kind of girl Roger would have ever gone for, I thought to myself. Now Debbie and Jill were another matter all together. They were the two that had arrived in the same car together, and seemed to be relatively close friends. Jill was the one that Roger had kissed at the Marquee Club, I remembered, and she still looked about the same – tall and thin with pretty golden brown hair and eyes – and she kept giving me sidelong glances as if she knew that she knew me, but she just couldn’t remember where she knew me from. Debbie was still short and curvy with her long blonde hair cascading down her back, and between the two of them, they didn’t seem to have two brain cells to rub together as they fiddled relentlessly with the zipper of their tent, giggling in a way that grated on my nerves when they couldn’t figure out how to unzip the damn thing so that they could go inside. I had a feeling that it was going to be a very long ten days with the two of them.

I was happy when Brian and Roger came zipping back into the campground, until, of course, I remembered who they had with them. Both guys were all smiles as they helped Chrissy and her friend unload their things from the back of Brian’s car. Chrissy still looked about the same as when I’d seen her at Imperial College, only this time she wasn’t wearing the frumpy clothing she’d been wearing before. This time she had on a pair of jeans and a Who t-shirt exactly like the one I’d seen Brian wearing many times before. I felt sick in the pit of my stomach thinking how the two of them had probably attended the same Who concert together and bought matching shirts. I practically threw up a little in my mouth at the mere thought of it.

Chrissy’s friend April, I was surprised to find, seemed like the polar opposite of her bosom buddy. Where Chrissy was short and slightly frumpy with long brown hair, April was tall and thin with strawberry blonde hair cut in a short bob, and while Chrissy struck me as someone who was very quiet and probably had some self-esteem issues, April seemed to be bubbly and outgoing with a constant smile on her face. She actually seemed like somebody that I might possibly like for once.

The two girls, along with Roger and Brian, came walking into the campground with boxes and bags in tow. They set everything down on one of the picnic tables as Roger spotted his Cornwall friends and immediately went up to say hi. Brian saw that I was in the kitchen area and told Chrissy and April to follow him as he made his way over.

“Wow! Look at everything you’ve done while we were gone! The place looks great!” Brian enthused, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek before looking over the organized shelves full of food and kitchen supplies.

“Well, I had a bit of help from Mary and Veronica,” I admitted.

“Chrissy, you remember Carrie, right?” Brian asked as he gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“Yes, we met at Imperial College,” Chrissy said quietly, nodding vaguely in my direction.

“But, April, I know the two of you haven’t met before, so let me introduce you to my girlfriend, Carrie,” Brian said.

“Nice to meet you,” April said with a wide smile, reaching out to shake my hand with a firm grip.

“Nice to meet you too,” I smiled back.

Everyone eventually got settled in, and our campsite began to feel like one big happy community with everyone sitting together talking and laughing or bustling around doing odd jobs. For a group of young troublemakers, we were unbelievably well organized, and I hoped that by the tenth day of the trip things would still be going smoothly and that we wouldn’t be ready to kill each other as we slowly got on each other’s nerves. It was going to be very interesting indeed, I decided, to see exactly how everything played out in the end.


	40. Chapter 40

“So, did everyone make it?” Mike the property owner asked Roger as his kids buzzed around our campsite, curiously studying all the new and different people that had arrived. 

“Yes, everyone made it,” Roger smiled, holding his lit cigarette up in the air as little Stephanie danced around his legs as if he were a Maypole.

“Excellent,” Mike replied. “Well, there’s plenty of firewood up at the house for your campfire, and Janet has specifically sent me to ask you all to have dinner with us tonight if you’re interested.”

“That sounds great,” Roger said, doing his best to stay upright as Stephanie completely wrapped herself around his legs. “I’m afraid none of us will be wearing our Sunday best though.”

“You’re camping! Of course you won’t be. Stephanie, let go of Roger’s legs,” Mike reprimanded. The little girl did as she was told, then went off in search of a new victim. Mike checked his watch and said, “What do you say. Come by in about an hour or so?”

“We’ll be there,” Roger replied.

Dinner ended up being a very nice affair with all sixteen of us spread out across four tables in the breakfast room of Mike and Janet’s bed & breakfast. Janet made roasted chicken with potatoes and carrots and freshly baked bread, and after a long day on the road and setting up camp, it felt really nice to sit down and have a solid meal.

After dinner I helped clear away all the dishes and pulled Janet aside briefly to ask her if it would be possible to use her oven to bake a cake the next day since it would be Brian’s birthday. She was very gracious and told me to just come into the kitchen whenever I was ready.

As we headed back toward our campsite after dinner, the guys all grabbed armfuls of wood to take with us for the campfire, all except for Freddie that is, who handed the one and only log he’d been carrying to Mary because he thought it had given him a splinter. I discovered quickly that Cornish summer nights are very chilly, so I went inside the tent to layer on another shirt and my warmest sweatshirt, and I was grateful when the guys built a rip-roaring fire for all of us to sit around.

The rest of the evening was spent talking and laughing around the fire, and though I would have liked to have gotten to know some of the people that I was unfamiliar with a little better, it seemed that everyone was happier drifting off into their little cliques and staying that way for the rest of the night. Chrissy and April were talking with Mary and Veronica for the most part, Jill, Eileen and Debbie all hung out together, Roger sat chatting with his buddies Rik and Doug along with John Harris and Mags, which left Freddie, John, Brian and me to form our own little group.

By about eleven o’clock or so people started to slowly drift off to their tents. John and Veronica were the first to depart, followed shortly thereafter by Freddie and Mary, then Brian and me. I had to admit, sleeping on the ground in a sleeping bag wasn’t the most comfortable of things, but it was cozy snuggling up with Brian trying to keep warm, so how could I possibly complain? We laid in each other’s arms talking about the day for a while, listening to everybody talking and laughing out by the campfire, until we both finally drifted off to sleep.

I felt like I’d only been asleep for a few minutes when I suddenly woke up with a start feeling very disoriented. It took me a second to remember that I was in a tent in Cornwall, and then I found myself wondering what had happened to all the noise out by the campfire, when a shriek sounded from a tent across the way.

Brian sat bolt upright, pushed the hair out of his eyes, and said in a groggy voice, “What the hell was that?”

We both crawled out of our sleeping bag and peeked out of our tent. It was then that I realized that at least a few hours must have gone by since I’d fallen asleep. The campfire was out and everything was eerily dark and quiet, except for across the way at Freddie and Mary’s tent, where Freddie suddenly came bursting out through the zippered front, shrieking, wearing nothing but his underwear. Soon Roger came wandering out of his tent as well, wearing a pair of sweatpants and nothing else, while John peeked his head out of his tent yawning and rubbing his eyes, his long brown hair in disarray.

“Freddie, what’s wrong?” Brian called out.

“There’s something over there,” Freddie said in a panicked voice, motioning toward the area behind his tent.

Brian squinted into the darkness, and said, “I don’t see anything.”

Freddie shrieked again, clutching at his chest, and said, “There! I just heard it! There’s some sort of wild animal!”

“Even if there is, I don’t think it will hurt you,” Brian said in a calm voice. “It’s probably just a fox or something.”

“Well, I’m not waiting around to find out,” Freddie said.

He dashed back into his tent and grabbed the clothes he’d been wearing earlier, hopping around on one foot, then another, as he quickly put on his pants and shirt. With no shoes on and his pants barely buttoned he ran off in the general direction of the house.

“Where the hell is he going?” Roger asked us from the doorway of his tent.

“Beats the shit out of me,” Brian replied.

Just then a small rabbit hopped out from behind Freddie’s tent, looked around quickly at all of us, then dashed off into the night.

“Aw, a bunny,” I sighed. “Is that what Freddie was so afraid of?”

“Good Lord,” Brian said, shaking his head. “This is liable to be the longest ten days of Freddie’s life.”

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

The next morning dawned foggy and quiet. It seemed very strange to wake up and not hear the sounds of London all around me. No shouting voices, no horns honking, no sirens blaring - just peaceful silence. Brian was still sound asleep, and since it was his birthday, I thought it was only fair to let him sleep as long as he wanted to. I tried to unzip the side of the sleeping bag as quietly as I could, but in the absolute silence that surrounded us, the sound seemed to be magnified ten-fold. To my surprise, however, Brian just shifted onto his back and continued to quietly snore away.

I reached into my duffle bag and pulled out a pair of jeans, a bra, a t-shirt and a hooded sweatshirt, putting everything on along with my socks and sneakers. I’d brought a tiny hand mirror with me, so I propped it up on top of my bag and tried with difficulty to see myself as I brushed my hair back into a ponytail.

I snuck out of the tent, not expecting anyone else to be up yet, and was surprised to see Roger sitting quietly by the remains of our campfire from the night before smoking a cigarette. 

“Oh, you’re up early,” I said quietly.

“Couldn’t sleep very well on that cold hard ground, so I thought I might as well just get up,” Roger answered. “Where’s the birthday boy?”

“Still asleep,” I replied, sitting down on the folding chair across from Roger. “Any idea what happened to Freddie last night?”

“Haven’t got a clue,” Roger admitted. “Did you ever hear him come back to his tent?”

“No, but then Brian and I went back to sleep shortly after we saw him take off,” I said. I rubbed my hands together for warmth, and told Roger, “Wow, it gets really chilly in the mornings and evenings here, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, it does,” Roger smiled. “Of course, I grew up here, so I’m pretty used to it. But I can see where a California girl like you, who’s spoiled on warm weather and sunshine, might have some difficulty.”

“You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?” I asked, giving him a withering look. “Why didn’t you build a fire?”

“I don’t know,” Roger shrugged. “I was the only one up and I wasn’t that cold.”

“Well, I could make some tea or something if we had a fire going,” I said. “Brian brought this campfire-tea-kettle thingy.”

“Just use the camping stove,” Roger said, motioning toward our makeshift kitchen.

“Well, I’m also cold too,” I said impatiently, getting up to walk over to the woodpile. “So I guess if you’re not going to be chivalrous…”

“Fine, fine. Let me help you,” Roger sighed.

“No, don’t worry about. I wouldn’t want you to sprain a pinky finger or something by having to lift heavy logs,” I griped as I bent over the woodpile searching for bits of bark and kindling to get the fire started with.

“Oh, just shut up and move over,” Roger complained, nudging me lightly in the ribs as he picked up an armload of wood.

The two of us gathered up the logs and kindling and hauled it over to the fire pit, then fought over the proper way to actually build the fire, and eventually got the whole thing going with a flick of Roger’s lighter. 

“There, happy?” Roger asked me sarcastically, as he sat back down in his folding chair.

I glared at him and stuck my tongue out as I stood before the flames, holding my hands toward them for warmth, instantly feeling much better. Soon I could hear rustling inside the other tents, and one by one, everyone started to emerge to face the day.

Deaky and Veronica were the first ones out followed shortly thereafter by John Harris and his girlfriend. We all exchanged a quick “good morning” then I went off in search of the teakettle. Brian had left it over in the kitchen area the day before when we were all unpacking, and I realized when I went to lift it up that it was solid iron and much heavier than I thought. Nonetheless, I heaved it over to the water tap near our campsite, rinsed it and filled it up, then nearly broke my back trying to pick it back up again. I knew when I was defeated, and reluctantly called out to Roger for some help.

“What’s wrong now?” he griped as he walked over to me.

“You know, your attitude kind of sucks,” I stated flatly, hands on my hips. I pointed to the kettle, still sitting stubbornly on the ground, and said “Think you can drag that over to the campfire for me?”

Roger rolled his eyes and reached down, easily picking the kettle up, as he said to me, “It’s not even that heavy. You’re being a bit of a girly girl today.”

I shoved him in the back irritably, as we trudged back over to the campfire, kettle and stand in hand.

By that time, Chrissy and April had both emerged from their tent along with all of the Cornwall girls. Everyone watched as Roger and I tried to figure out how to put the stand together for the teakettle, a task that wasn’t going so well. Every time we thought we had it right, the entire thing would collapse as soon as we’d try to stand it up. We were arguing over which one of us was more incompetent, when Brian came shuffling out of our tent.

“Hey! There’s my birthday guy!” I exclaimed, getting up to give Brian a big hug and a kiss. “So, how does it feel to be a whole quarter of a century old?”

“Terrible when you phrase it like that!” Brian laughed. “What are you two doing with my dad’s poor old teakettle anyway?”

“We were trying to set it up, but couldn’t figure it out,” I replied.

“Here, let me see…” Brian said, picking up all the pieces and easily popping them into place over the fire, hanging the kettle from the hook in the center.

“You’re so smart!” I exclaimed, reaching over to give Brian a side-hug as he straightened back up again.

“You’re in a good mood today,” Brian said, looking down at me with a smile.

“Of course I’m in a good mood! It’s not everyday that my boyfriend turns 25, now is it?” I asked. “But I am going to have to leave you for a bit after we have our tea, cause there’s something I’ve got to do.”

“What do you have to do?” Brian questioned.

“Just something,” I simpered with an impish grin. “Hopefully it won’t take too long, and I’ll just be up at the house.”

Brian narrowed his eyes at me, the wheels in his head clearly turning as he tried to figure out my secret plans. I just grinned up at him, stood on my tiptoes to give him a quick kiss, and then walked over to the kitchen area to fetch the teabags and cups.

I drank my tea down quickly and snuck back into our kitchen area, where I had a chocolate cake mix, oil, powdered sugar and a bottle of good old American McCormick vanilla stashed away in a brown paper grocery bag under a stack of napkins and dish towels, hoping that prying eyes wouldn’t find it. I peeked up over the top of our stove area to see if Brian was looking, and naturally, not only was he watching my every move, but so was Roger. I stuffed the bag up inside my sweatshirt, gave both guys a quick smile and wave, and waltzed off in the direction of the house, only removing the bag from my shirt when I thought the coast was clear.

The interior of the house was buzzing when I walked inside. Patrons staying at the bed & breakfast part of the establishment were all sitting at the same tables that the sixteen of us had had dinner at the night before, enjoying their morning toast and coffee. I was looking around trying to catch sight of Janet to let her know that I was there to use the kitchen, when a familiar face at one of the breakfast tables registered in my brain.

“Freddie?” I said in a shocked voice. “What in the hell are you doing here?”

“Oh hello darling,” Freddie replied casually, looking up from his breakfast to see who was addressing him.

I walked over to his table and sat across from him, plopping my grocery bag in my lap, as I stared at him completely dumbstruck.

“Why, may I ask, are you having a nice, lovely breakfast inside of a warm comfortable house while the rest of us are freezing our asses off outside in the cold foggy weather?” I asked.

“Janet offered me a room,” Freddie said simply, before taking a bite of his toast smothered liberally with butter and jam.

“What do you mean she offered you a room?” I demanded.

“Listen darling, camping may all be well and good for the rest of you, but I simply can’t tolerate it,” Freddie stated. “Especially after I was in fear of my life last night.”

I burst out laughing a little too loudly, causing the other patrons to turn and stare at me. I lowered my voice a little and said, “Do you know what your ‘wild animal’ turned out to be last night? A rabbit. You were in fear for your life because of a rabbit.”

“Well it must have been a large vicious thing because it sounded like it was going to tear our tent down at any moment!” Freddie argued.

“Good God all mighty…” I said, shaking my head.

Just then Janet popped into the room carrying a plate of muffins and spotted me.

“Oh, hello Carrie! Here to use the oven?” she asked.

“Yes, if that’s still okay,” I replied.

“Of course, of course,” she said, waving away my concern. “Do you need anything for the cake itself?”

“Well, I might need a couple of eggs and a bit of butter and milk for the frosting,” I confessed.

“Not a problem. You’ll see the fridge in there, and it should be stocked with anything you need,” Janet said cordially, motioning toward the door of the kitchen several feet away.

I thanked her sincerely and got up to leave the table, but not before picking up a piece of Freddie’s toast and taking a quick bite just to spite him.

I expected the kitchen to be relatively antiquated, considering that the house itself seemed to date from around the late Victorian era, but it ended up being much larger and more modern than I thought it would be, boasting newer appliances and a large tile counter top with lots of room to spread out and prepare food. I found a bit of counter space and set down my bag, immediately pulling out the ingredients that I needed to start making my cake. I looked around to see if I could find a bowl and an oblong pan, and after opening a few different cupboards, I finally found what I needed. I turned the oven on to preheat it, then moved on to the fridge to find the eggs. I was expecting to find a carton or two, but there were crates of them piled one on top of the other, many of which looked as though they must have come from the family’s own chickens rather than a grocery store. Couldn’t get much fresher than that, I decided.

I prepared the pan and starting mixing up the batter when I saw something moving out of the corner of my eye. I looked toward the kitchen window and saw a blur of blonde and dark brown hair disappear below the sill outside. I didn’t know whether I should be annoyed or whether I should laugh. I definitely had to laugh, I decided, since I could still see the tips of Brian’s curls sticking up above the windowsill.

I walked across the kitchen to the window, unlatched the sash, and pushed it upward in one swift movement.

“You really have no idea how big your hair is, do you?” I teased, leaning out the window.

“Damn it! I knew that either your height or your hair was going to get us caught!” Roger griped at Brian, as the two of them straightened up from their crouching position. “Remind me never to go sneaking around with you again!”

“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t have brought you along at all if I’d known where the damn kitchen was!” Brian argued.

“Are you two ladies done with your little catfight?” I smirked, leaning my elbows on the windowsill. “And whose bright idea was it to come spy on me anyway?”

“His,” they both said, pointing at each other.

“Me? It wasn’t my idea!” Roger exclaimed. “You’re the one who couldn’t stand not knowing what she was doing!”

“Well, you’re the one who volunteered to show me where the kitchen window was!” Brian shot back.

“I’m not sure whether I should angry at both of you or be flattered that what I was doing was so interesting to you!” I laughed.

“What _are_ you doing anyway?” Brian asked sweetly, peering around me into the kitchen.

“I see a cake mix!” Roger said, pointing toward the counter.

“Oh, well spotted Sherlock Holmes!” I said sarcastically.

“You’re making a cake?” Brian asked innocently.

“Well, if you must know, there’s this really good-looking guy out at the campsite, and it’s his birthday today, so I thought I’d surprise him with a cake,” I said waggling my eyebrows at Brian.

“Oh yeah? Who is this fella? Should I be jealous?” Brian asked, resting his elbows on the windowsill next to mine.

“Hmm, I don’t know,” I purred. “He’s really tall, and has this naturally curly dark hair, and the most beautiful hazel eyes…”

“Ugh. You two are revolting,” Roger said. “I’m gonna come in and see if Janet has any breakfast left.”

“Yeah, you might as well. Freddie’s already in there eating,” I said.

“What?!” Brian and Roger both exclaimed.

“Apparently he talked Janet into letting him have a room so that he doesn’t have to be frightened by wild bunny rabbits during the night,” I drawled, rolling my eyes skyward.

“Oh, I don’t bloody well think so!” Roger fumed, stalking off toward the front of the house.

“We’ll be in in a minute,” Brian grinned, trailing off behind him.

I went back to my cake mix, and within a few minutes, Brian came wandering into the kitchen, followed by Roger and Freddie, who were arguing with each other.

“This is meant to be a camping trip you know!” Roger shouted.

“I don’t care, darling, I’m not sleeping out there again!” Freddie countered.

“Then why did you agree to come on this trip at all?” Roger demanded.

“Oh what does it matter to you if I’m sleeping in here or out there?” Freddie asked.

“Because it’s not exactly fair that you’ll be sleeping in a nice, warm, comfortable bed while the rest of us are lying on the ground in sleeping bags!” Roger railed.

“Will you two stop already!” I admonished. “It’s Brian’s birthday and I’m trying to make a cake here!”

“Roger’s just jealous that he didn’t think of it first, that’s all,” Freddie said as he leaned against the kitchen counter examining his fingernails.

“Does Mary even know that you’re over here?” Roger demanded. “What’s she going to say when she knows that you slept in a warm cozy bed all night while she was in a sleeping bag?”

“Well, she’ll be with me tonight,” Freddie said defensively.

“I’m going to go tell her…” Roger said, racing toward the kitchen door.

“No you’re not! I’ll tell her!” Freddie shouted, chasing after Roger.

“Good Lord, can you hear that?” Brian asked, cupping a hand around one ear.

“What?” I asked.

“It’s actually quiet in here,” he said dramatically.

“No kidding!” I laughed. “If they’re going to keep acting like this, then it’s going to be a long ten days!”

“So, what kind of cake are you making me?” Brian asked, leaning his elbows on the countertop as he peered into the mixing bowl.

“Oh, you mean your ‘surprise’ cake?” I teased.

“Sorry,” Brian said quietly. “I guess my curiosity got the better of me.”

“Sometimes you’re worse than a little kid, you know that?” I laughed. I dipped my finger in the batter and swiped it across the tip of his nose.

Brian laughed and reached up to wipe the cake batter back off of his nose, popping his finger into his mouth to lick it off.

“Mmm, chocolate,” he said.

I poured the batter into the pan, but only after Brian and I had eaten our fair share first, then slid the pan into the oven and set the timer for 30 minutes.

“Well, that’s that,” I said, clapping my hands together. I walked back across the kitchen to Brian once more and said, “Now all we have to do is wait for 30 minutes. Hmm, I wonder what we could do for 30 minutes?”

“Well, I don’t know if you noticed or not, but we seem to be all alone for once,” Brian said as he pulled me into his arms.

“I did notice,” I smiled up at him.

“And it _is_ my birthday,” Brian reminded me.

“Mm-hmm…”

Brian wrapped his hands around my waist and lifted me up onto the countertop so that we were of a similar height and had better access to each other’s lips. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me in close, our bodies pressed firmly together as we kissed, lightly at first, then longer and deeper, my fingers tangling in his long curly locks as we tasted the sweet chocolate cake mix on each other’s lips.

“Can I have more of this tonight for my birthday?” Brian breathed in between kisses.

“Mm-hmm, and then some,” I replied, kissing down his neck.

“I like the way you think…” Brian whispered, lifting my chin up for another long passionate kiss.

The two of us became so wrapped up in what we were doing, that we somehow managed to forget that we were in someone else’s kitchen…


	41. Chapter 41

Brian and I continued kissing, our arms and legs wrapped around each other, our tongues deeply entrenched in each other’s mouths, with our bodies aching for more. It wasn’t until we heard the kitchen door open that we suddenly remembered that we weren’t at home in London anymore.

“You’re very welcome Mr. and Mrs. Smith!” Janet called out to two of her bed & breakfast guests as she sidled into the kitchen bearing a tray of dirty dishes. She took one look at us and said, “Oh my! S…sorry to interrupt.”

“Oh my God…” Brian whispered, looking more embarrassed than I’d ever seen him, as he had to turn away from Janet and pull his tucked in shirt out of his pants in order to hide a very prominent part of his body that was eager to come out and play.

I immediately hopped off of the counter and stammered, “I’m… I’m so sorry Janet. We were just, um, waiting for the cake to finish baking.”

“Well don’t mind me, I’m just bringing in some dirty dishes,” Janet said, her cheeks turning slightly pink.

“I’m really very sorry,” I went on, feeling terrible about our naughty, disrespectful behavior. “We shouldn’t have, that is, I shouldn’t have…”

“No need to apologize,” Janet said with a smile and a dismissive wave. “I was young and in love at one time myself.”

Brian had apparently calmed himself down enough so that he was able to turn around and at least give Janet a feeble grin.

“Well, if you need me for anything, I’ll just be in the next room,” Janet said before heading back out the kitchen door and into the dining area.

I looked at Brian and saw the panicked look he still had on his face, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“That wasn’t funny,” Brian said, clutching at his chest. “I didn’t know how I was going to explain why I couldn’t turn around and talk to her.”

I started laughing even harder, tears streaming down my face.

“You’ve got a very strange sense of humor, you know that?” Brian said, folding his arms across his chest resolutely, yet at the same time fighting to keep the smile from his face. He finally cracked and started laughing right along with me, as he reached out to tickle my sides playfully.

Before long the cake was done, so I took it out and left it on the counter to cool down for a bit. I asked Janet if it was okay to leave it where it was, and she said that that was fine. I told her that I’d be back in a little while to frost it. Brian and I, meanwhile, headed back to the campground to see what everybody else was up to, and I was surprised to find the smell of food wafting our way.

“There they are!” John Harris called out as we approached. “We were starting to worry that maybe a bunny frightened you away like it did Freddie last night!”

Everyone started laughing, all except for Freddie, who was sitting in one of the folding chairs, arms folded across his chest, glaring at Harris through narrowed eyes.

“Hey, are you two hungry? I made some eggs and beans, and there’s still hot water in the kettle,” Roger’s friend Rik called out from behind the camping stove. It occurred to me that I’d been so worried about making Brian’s cake that I’d completely forgotten to eat, and even though beans didn’t sound like the most appetizing thing in the world for breakfast, I supposed that it was better than nothing.

Brian and I each grabbed a plate of food and a cup of tea, thanked Rik heartily, and sat down with the others around the campfire to chat.

“So, what’s on the agenda for your birthday today?” Deaky asked Brian.

“I don’t know. Did you have any thoughts?” Brian asked me.

“Hey, I’ve got an idea,” Roger chimed in before I could answer. “Why don’t we go to The Watering Hole tonight? They’ve got decent food and drinks, and there’s a live band almost every night.”

“That sounds like it might be fun,” Brian said after a bit of thought. He looked at me and smiled and said, “What do you think?”

“It’s your birthday, sweetheart,” I replied. “Whatever you want to do.”

_“Whatever_ he wants to do?” Freddie grinned, unable to resist twisting my innocent words into something dirty. 

“Of course,” I purred, no longer embarrassed by his little puns and innuendos. “Later on tonight after you guys have all gone to bed.”

There was a round of catcalling and cheers from most of the guys, with Brian even receiving a hearty slap on the back from Roger’s friend Rik, and Chrissy, I noticed, suddenly seemed to remember something important that she had to do in her tent, as she quietly turned and walked away.

After we ate, Brian and I trudged back up to the house so that I could make the frosting for his cake. We were bombarded as soon as we walked through the front door by Eric and Stephanie, who were running through the house playing tag and shouting, “You’re it!”

Brian was nearly knocked backwards as Stephanie slammed into his legs, and soon Janet came storming into the entryway calling out, “Eric! Stephanie! Stop it this instant! Apologize to Carrie and Brian!”

“Sorry,” Stephanie and Eric both mumbled as they looked sheepishly at the ground.

I told Janet that I was back to finish the cake, if that was okay with her, and immediately, two little sets of ears perked up as soon as the word “cake” left my mouth. Eric and Stephanie followed Brian and me into the kitchen, much to my chagrin, and Brian attempted to keep them busy by talking to them and playing games while I quickly whipped up the frosting. Stephanie though, being the little busybody that she was, still had to ask me what I was doing about every thirty seconds or so.

“I’ve got an idea,” Brian said as soon all the frosting was on the cake. “Why don’t the two of you show us around your farm. I’d like to see your animals.”

“Oh, yes!” Stephanie exclaimed, grabbing Brian by the hand. “Come with me! I’ll show them to you!”

“No, I’ll show them! You don’t know all their names!” Eric argued, following closely behind Brian and Stephanie as the latter drug the former out of the kitchen. I wasn’t sure if I should be jealous or amused that a five-year-old girl was dragging my boyfriend around by the hand. I left the cake on the counter for the time being, and brought up the rear of our little group as we made our way outside.

Eric and Stephanie showed us their cows, pigs, chickens and sheep, introduced us to their two Black Labs, Bo and Nellie, and took us inside their barn, where a litter of kittens and their mother lay sleeping in a pile of hay.

“Oh, look at the babies!” I gushed. I reached down to pet the mother, and suddenly the entire litter of five kittens was wide-awake and mewling over the sudden disturbance.

“Aw, may I hold one?” Brian asked the kids.

“Oh yes, we do all the time,” Stephanie assured him.

Brian reached for a brown tabby, as an adorable little grey tabby immediately began climbing my leg.

“Look at you!” I said, as I crouched down, lifting the little grey kitten up into my arms. It was love at first sight. He had big, bright, mischievous eyes, and was eager to play and be loved.

“That one’s Lola,” Stephanie informed us as she pointed at the kitten that Brian was holding. She pointed to mine next and said, “That’s Harold” then pointed to each of the remaining kittens, saying, “This one’s George, that’s Martha, and over there is Lizzie.”

Each kitten was adorable, ranging from tabbies to calicos to one that was solid orange, which Stephanie had called “George”.

“Did you say that this one’s name is Harold?” I asked Stephanie, motioning toward the grey tabby in my arms.

“Yep, that’s Harold,” Stephanie replied.

I looked at Brian and said, “He’s got your middle name! It’s a sign!”

“A sign of what?” Brian asked.

“That we need to take him home,” I said.

“We don’t even know if Mike and Janet want to give them away,” Brian reminded me.

“Actually, Mummy said that we need to find homes for them soon. They’re six weeks old now,” Stephanie informed us.

“See,” I said, making funny faces at Harold.

“You do know that cats are a long term commitment, and you’re going to be going back to America one of these days,” Brian said soberly.

“I know…” I said quietly. I knew Brian was right, but I couldn’t stand being reminded that I eventually had to return to the States. The truth was, I didn’t want to go back to the States. I wanted to live in England for the rest of my life, with the man I loved. But, since my future was unsure, I put the little baby down with a heavy heart, and watched as he climbed on top of his mommy and started playfully biting her ear.

I hadn’t realized until that moment how much I missed my cats back home. I was trying very hard not to cry, as I got up from my crouching position beside the cats, and headed out through the barn door.

Brian set down his kitten and ran after me saying, “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry,” I said, unbidden tears forming in my eyes. “I guess I just didn’t realize how much I missed my cats back home.”

“Come here…” Brian said, pulling me toward him for a soothing hug. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“No, it’s not your fault,” I said. “I just really hate talking about going back to America.”

“I know, I know,” Brian whispered into my hair. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No, you’re right,” I said. “It’s something we’ve got to face one of these days.”

I pulled back a little, wiped the tears from my eyes, and gazed up at the worried look on Brian’s face.

“I’m so sorry,” I said. “I’m completely ruining your birthday.”

“You could never ruin my birthday, or any other day for that matter,” Brian said, wiping away a stray tear from my cheek.

I gave him a watery smile, and said, “I guess I’d better go get your birthday cake.”

“Can you manage it on your own?” Brian asked, suddenly looking very serious. “Because there’s something I wanted to do over at the campsite really quick.”

I gave Brian a puzzled look, wondering what this sudden “something” could be, but didn’t say anything. Instead I just said, “Yeah, I can get it by myself.”

“Okay, I’ll meet you back at the campsite then, all right?” Brian asked, dropping a quick kiss on the top of my head.

“Okay,” I replied, watching as he hurried away. I thought I’d better round up Eric and Stephanie before heading back to the house, so that their mother wouldn’t think that I was just letting them roam wild, and I walked back into the barn to find them still playing with the kittens.

“I’m heading back to the house to get the cake, guys,” I said. “Are you coming with me?”

“Cake!” they both shouted, and immediately the kittens were forgotten.

It only took a few minutes to walk to the front door of the house, but along the way, the kids managed to give me every detail regarding how many people were staying at their mum & dad’s bed & breakfast at that particular moment, what all their names were, where they were from, and when they would be leaving, making the short trek seem more like an eternity.

We found their mom, Janet, sweeping up the entryway of the house, and Eric and Stephanie had to completely fill her in on how they’d shown Brian and me every animal that the family possessed.

“Oh, that was very nice of you children,” Janet told them. Then she looked to me and said, “I hope they’re not driving you mad.”

“Not at all,” I reassured her. “I was happy to see all the animals. The kittens in your barn are adorable.”

“Oh, you’re welcome to take one home,” Janet said, wiping at the sweat on her forehead. “I’d love to see them all go to good homes instead of becoming old tom cats like their father.”

“I’ll think about it,” I smiled.

“Did you finish your cake?” Janet asked me.

“Yes, it’s on the kitchen counter, would you like to see it?” I asked.

“I’d love to,” Janet replied, leaning her broom against the nearest wall.

I led the way into the kitchen where my simple little home made cake was still sitting right where I’d left it.

“Oh, it’s lovely,” Janet said, turning the cake from side to side to get a better look. “Do you have any candles for it?”

“Candles!” I exclaimed, slapping myself on the forehead. “I knew there was something I forgot!”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got some leftover from Stephanie’s last birthday,” Janet said.

She procured the candles from a cupboard, and the two of us, along with Eric and Stephanie, placed them all around the cake.

“Thank you so much for everything, Janet,” I said. “I would have never been able to do this without your help. And I’d love it if you and Mike and the kids would come out and help me sing _Happy Birthday_ to Brian and have a piece of cake.”

“Aw, that would be lovely,” Janet said. “Let me just go find Mike.”

Once Mike was found, the five of us walked the cake out to the campsite, where everyone was milling around and talking or horsing around in some capacity. I was looking around for Roger, and eventually found him near the tent that Brian and I were sharing, deep in conversation with the birthday boy himself.

“Roger!” I called out. When he didn’t hear me the first time, I called out again, only louder, “Roger!”

I caught his eye and waved him over to our kitchen area near the stove. Brian craned his neck to see what was going on, and eventually took a seat in one of the folding chairs, keeping a watchful eye on what was happening with his birthday cake.

“Yeah?” Roger asked as he walked up.

“Can I use your lighter?” I asked.

“Oh, sure…” he mumbled, digging in his pocket. “Want me to light those for you?”

“Yeah, thanks,” I said, and within seconds, the entire cake was aglow.

“Are we singing _Happy Birthday?”_ Roger asked.

“Of course,” I smiled, lifting the cake carefully off of the table by the edges.

“Okay everyone! Gather round! Time to sing _Happy Birthday_ to the old man over there!” Roger shouted, pointing toward Brian.

Everyone cheered and clapped as I brought the cake forward with Mike and Janet and their kids right behind me. I led the chorus of well-wishers into song, slightly off-key as usual, and thankfully I was soon drowned out by those who could actually sing.

Brian blushed over the fuss everyone was making, hiding his face in his hands momentarily, but grinning from ear to ear all the while. Everyone cheered when the song was over, and Brian took a deep breath, blowing out every candle on the cake in one shot.

“Did you make a wish? Did you make a wish?” Stephanie asked Brian excitedly, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet.

“Yes, I did,” Brian replied, giving me a heartfelt look.

I smiled at him and took the cake off to be cut up into individual pieces.

Everyone sat around what was left of the campfire eating their cake and chatting animatedly. Brian told me the cake was delicious and thanked me for going to so much trouble for him before giving me a quick kiss. When the cake was all gone, I gathered up everyone’s dirty plates and forks and took them over to our makeshift kitchen sink. Before I washed everything, however, I wanted to give Brian his present.

I walked into our tent and came out with the large wrapped box under my arm, handed it to Brian, and said, “Happy birthday sweetheart.”

Brian just shook his head and said, “I can’t believe all the fuss you’ve made over me today.”

I sat down next to him and watched with anticipation as everyone urged him to open it. 

Brian tore open the birthday card first, read the romantic sentiment inside, and smiled at me, saying “Aw, thank you babe.” He then reached for the wrapping paper, carefully ripping it open, and popped open the cardboard box underneath. The glint of brass inside made him pause momentarily as he took in the contents.

“Is this what I think it is?” Brian asked me.

“Well, what is it?” Freddie demanded impatiently.

“It’s an antique telescope made just after the turn of the century,” I said.

Everyone “oohed” and “aahed” as Brian removed the beautiful brass object and it’s stand from the box.

“I can’t believe you bought something like this for me,” Brian said, looking at me with a shocked expression. “I know this had to have cost you a small fortune.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “I bought it because I thought you would like it.”

“I love it,” Brian breathed. He carefully took each piece of the telescope out of the box and immediately put the whole thing together. Within minutes he was adjusting knobs and fiddling with settings on the tripod, until he was able to see the leaves on a faraway tree as though they were right next to us. He let me have a look, and I was seriously impressed with how well such an old object actually worked.

“Feel like taking it down to the beach?” Brian asked me at last.

“Sure,” I said.

Brian folded the stand back up and the two of us trudged off toward the large sandy beach near our campsite, cautiously navigating the cliffs and drop-offs as we went. The view of the ocean was magnificent now that the morning fog had burned away, leaving a crisp, warm sunny day in its wake. I watched as Brian set up the telescope in the damp sand, adjusting the legs on the tripod as though he was already completely familiar with the object and had owned it all his life. He showed me all the different mechanisms and told me what all the various knobs and dials were for, and soon he had a distant sailboat on the horizon looking as close and clear as if it was sitting right next to us.

“It amazes me how clever you are when it comes to stuff like this,” I said, peering through the eyepiece as Brian sat down on the beach behind me. “I can’t even get binoculars to work for me half the time.”

Brian quietly chuckled then paused for a moment before saying, “Can I talk to you about something?”

I quickly pulled away from the telescope to turn and look at Brian, and I could tell that something important was on his mind.

“Of course,” I said, worrying that something was wrong. I sat down beside him and asked, “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” Brian reassured me by reaching for my hand and grasping it tightly in his own. “Everything’s…perfect, in fact. I have a question for you though.”

“Okay…”

“I know we’ve talked about this a little, but never very seriously. What are your plans when you’re finished with King’s College?”

“Well, I’ve got to finish up my degree back at Stanford,” I answered in a serious tone, watching as a light breeze ruffled Brian’s hair. “Then, ideally, I would love to find a job here in England and move back so that we can be together.”

“That’s sort of what I’d always figured,” Brian smiled. “If that’s the case, then I have a bit of a proposition for you.”

Brian paused and looked at the ground, trying to find the right words as he still held on tightly to my hand.

“It’s come to my attention that I spend most of my time at your place these days, and I’m starting to wonder why I’m bothering to keep my place when your place is so much nicer, and we both seem to be more comfortable there.”

“Are you saying that you want to move in?” I asked excitedly.

“Hang on, let me finish,” Brian said patiently, holding up his free hand.

“Sorry,” I said sheepishly.

“The problem, is that I can’t possibly afford your place on my own after you go back home, but, I could if I shared the living expenses with someone else. I talked to Roger, who also lives in the same crappy kind of bed-sit that I do, and he’d be willing to move in for a bit while you’re gone and help me pay rent. As soon as you’re able to find a job over here and move back, then Roger will find his own place, and you can move right back in. What do you think?”

“You talked with Roger about all this? And he’s okay with it?” I asked.

“He was fine with it,” Brian replied. “Although I think it has more to do with the fact that he’d get to play around with that remote control on your telly than anything else.”

“That I can believe!” I laughed.

“What it also means, is that I would love to adopt that little grey kitten, if it’s okay with Mike and Janet, and I would gladly take care of it while you’re in America and keep it safe until you got back,” Brian said.

“Are you sure?” I asked, trying not to get teary eyed again.

“I’m positive,” Brian answered. “You know how much I love animals. I’m not sure about its name though. Do we have to call it Harold?”

“Of course we have to call it Harold!” I exclaimed.

“Fine, but the next cat we get is going to be a girl, and we’re going to call it Lynn,” Brian said.

“Ugh, you know I hate my middle name,” I said.

“Sorry, but its final,” Brian teased. “If we have to have a Harold, then we’ll have to have a Lynn at some point.”

“All right, fine,” I said. I looked up at Brian’s smiling face and added, “Do you know how much I love you, Mr. May?”

“How much, Mrs. May?” Brian asked as he wrapped his arms around me.

“More than…all the matter in the universe put together,” I said after thinking about it for a second.

“Wow! That is a lot!” 

“Is it? Oh thank God, cause I really wasn’t sure,” I laughed.

Brian laughed too, and soon the two of us were leaning into one another and kissing. I never knew how enjoyable kissing could be until I met Brian. His lips were always so soft. His touch was always so warm and tender. I didn’t know how I’d gotten so lucky, but I knew that it wasn’t possible for me to love anybody more than the man that was sitting next to me at that moment.


	42. Chapter 42

I was completely lost in the moment with Brian, kissing and cuddling and dreaming of what our lives were going to be like when I was able to move to England permanently - and then…

SPLASH!!!

Icy water came raining down on both our heads. My breath caught in my throat as I tried to scream but couldn’t. Brian leapt to his feet shouting out a few choice words, as he wiped the wet hair out of his face.

I could have bet money on who’d done it before I ever turned around. It was Freddie and Roger, of course, who were both laughing hysterically and holding an empty ice chest from the campground.

“What the fuck is wrong with you two?!” Brian demanded, shaking the icy water from his clothes. “Can’t you see that I’m trying to enjoy a bit of time alone with my girlfriend?”

“That’s all you two ducks have _been_ doing since we got here!” Freddie shouted. “There are other people in your life you know, who might enjoy spending a bit of time with you on your birthday!”

“What did you just call us?” Brian shouted, after a bit of thought.

“Oh! We haven’t told them their new nickname yet, have we?” Freddie grinned at Roger.

“That’s right!” Roger exclaimed. He turned to me and said, “The two of you are the ducks now.”

_“Why_ exactly are we the ducks?” I demanded, as I tried in vain to shake the dripping water from my arms and hands.

“Well, we started off just calling you both odd,” Roger explained with a crooked grin. “Then that turned into calling you odd-ducks, and then we finally just shortened that down to the ducks. So, you see, it all makes perfect sense.”

“Honestly, don’t the two of you have anything better to do than to play juvenile pranks, or come up with ridiculous names for us?!” Brian yelled.

“Don’t worry, babe, they’re going to get theirs,” I said, looking pointedly at Roger, realizing that puddles of water had formed inside my shoes. I pointed at Freddie and Roger in turn, and added, “I don’t know where or when yet, but we _will_ get you back.”

“Ooh, am I supposed to be scared?” Roger asked sarcastically, holding his hands up to his face and feigning a terrified expression.

“Just wait,” I smirked.

“Yes, yes, fine, we’re petrified,” Freddie drawled. “Now come back to the campground. Rik and some of the others are getting bored and say they have an idea.”

Brian and I just looked at each other and shook our heads over what idiots we had for friends, then we gathered up Brian’s telescope and took it back to the tent for safe keeping. While we were inside, we dried ourselves off a bit and changed into some dry clothes before going out to see what Rik and the others had up their sleeves.

“Okay everyone, Doug and I have an idea!” Rik told everyone excitedly. “We found an old rope over by the barn, and there’s a huge mud puddle over by the kids’ playground, so we thought we could form two teams and have a tug of war competition! The losing team gets to buy the first round of drinks for all the winners tonight at The Watering Hole.”

“Mud?” Freddie questioned with a horrified look on his face. “I didn’t know there was going to be mud involved, darling.”

“What’s the matter?” I asked caustically. “Afraid of ruining your lovely little outfit?”

“Not really,” Freddie replied waspishly. “After all, only the _losers_ are going to get dirty, right? I plan on being on the winning team.”

“Should we all pick teams then?” Roger asked.

We tried to form two teams on our own, but it was clear pretty quickly that it wasn’t going to work. There were fewer guys than girls to begin with, and out of the guys that we did have, everyone wanted the strongest ones for their team.

“What if we draw names out of a hat?” Rik suggested at last. “We’ll have one hat filled with girls names and another for the fellas, and we’ll draw out a name from each hat one at a time for each team, that way it’s fair.”

Everyone agreed that this seemed like the most democratic way of dealing with the situation, and Freddie and Roger went about procuring a couple of hats and having everyone write their name on a scrap of paper.

“Okay, let’s have team one line up over here, and team two over there,” Freddie said directing everyone toward each side of the campfire. He reached into the girl’s hat first as Roger held it aloft and pulled out the first name. “The first person for team one is, Chrissy!”

Chrissy smiled meekly and walked over to stand in her team’s appointed area.

“First girl for team two is, April!”

This continued on with team one consisting of Chrissy, John Harris, Eileen, Roger, Debbie, Deaky, Rik and me. Team two ended up with April, Brian, Mary, Doug, Mags, Freddie, Jill and Veronica. The only good thing I could see about the whole thing so far was that my team had more guys than girls, which I hoped would equate to more strength. I was sad that Brian and I ended up on different teams though, and I wasn’t exactly thrilled about being on the same team with Chrissy either.

Both teams trooped over to the children’s play area, with Doug dragging the long rope he’d found along in his wake. We laid the rope out and each team lined up with everyone fighting for the spots furthest from the mud puddle, which was probably about ten feet in diameter. When it became obvious that no one was voluntarily going to take the spots closest to the mud, Freddie intervened and lined everyone up in the order in which their names had been called. This was good news for me, because I had been called second to last on my team. Brian, however, was only the second in line on team two, and I knew that if they lost, it didn’t bode well for him.

We all took our positions, and on Freddie’s count of three, we began to pull as hard as we could. Each team shuffled and swayed, Chrissy and April coming dangerously close to the mud on several occasions since they were both on the front lines. Each of our teammates shouted out encouragement, with Freddie and Roger making the most noise out of everyone. I was sandwiched between Deaky and Rik, who were both yelling at me and the other girls to “put our backs into it!” and to “pull harder!”

Back and forth the rope went, until finally, somehow, our team seemed to find an edge. “Pull!!” Roger cried, and fuelled by sudden adrenaline, we did. Within seconds, everyone from team two were propelled forward, trying in vain to stop their momentum before they hit the muck that was spread out in front of them. April landed face first, with Brian falling on top of her, and everyone else just looked like dominoes tumbling one by one until every last person was coated with a thick layer of mud.

All of the people from our team were in a fit of hysterics, pointing and laughing at their fallen enemies, and even though I felt bad, especially for Brian, I couldn’t help but laugh too. Particularly when I saw Freddie covered from head to toe, his hair dripping with nasty, muddy water. So much for his lovely clothes, I thought. Served him right after what he and Roger had done to Brian and me. 

After a couple of seconds, Brian stood up and trudged slowly out of the mud, looking so pitiful that I had to go to him.

“Oh, baby, look at your hair,” I said, trying not to laugh, as I wiped Brian’s mud-soaked curls off of his forehead.

Roger and his friend Rik were still standing near the edge of the mud puddle, laughing at everyone as they tried to make their way out, when he heard what I’d said to Brian.

“Oh, Brian, your poor hair,” he mocked loudly in his best girly voice, reaching up to fluff his own long blonde locks, while Rik just laughed.

“You know, sometimes I really wish that someone would kick his ass,” I said to Brian.

“Watch this…” Brian leaned in toward me and whispered, smearing a bit of mud on my cheek in the process. He walked over to Roger, hand extended, and said, “Well done, Rog, your team clearly had all the strength in the end.”

Roger eyed him warily, but reached out to shake his hand nonetheless. As soon as he did, Brian pulled on his arm, whipping Roger around to face him, and shoved him with all his might, sending Roger toppling onto his backside into the mud.

Everyone cheered, including me, and suddenly it became obvious that no one on the winning team was safe.

“Get anyone who’s not muddy!” Doug called out as a battle cry to his teammates, and soon everyone was scrambling.

April grabbed ahold of Chrissy by both hands and dragged her kicking and screaming into the mud, while John Harris and Rik voluntarily dove into the puddle all on their own. Freddie had cornered poor Deaky and wouldn’t rest until he was able to shove him into the mud as well. Roger, meanwhile, had made his way back out of the mire along with Doug, the two of them hell bent on catching Eileen and Debbie, which left only me that had yet to be caught.

I slowly started to back away from the scene, thinking that if I moved very quietly that maybe, just maybe, no one would notice me sneaking away.

“Brian! Your girlfriend is getting away!” Freddie shouted, pointing my way.

Brian was still standing near the edge of the puddle, laughing at the sight of all of his friends wallowing in the mud, until Freddie brought my name up. His head snapped up, his face immediately turning my way, as he started walking toward me, giving me a mischievous grin that would have seemed more at home on Roger’s face.

“Come on…” Brian smiled wickedly, reaching out for my hands.

“No, now listen…” I said, backing away even faster. “Just because everyone else is covered in mud, that doesn’t mean that I need to be too!”

“Aw, but I wouldn’t want you to feel left out…” Brian said with mock sympathy, grabbing me around my waist and tossing me casually over his shoulder.

I wasn’t going to go without a fight. I kicked and screamed and pleaded all the way to the puddle, hoping beyond hope that Brian would have mercy. He didn’t. I was tossed unceremoniously onto my backside to wallow in the dirty puddle just like everyone else, with Freddie smearing my cheeks and hair with mud, much to everyone’s delight.

Before long it became apparent that we had an audience. Over the way, just beyond a small hedgerow, lay the Willow campground, which was much larger than our small Meadow spot, and was currently home to several families. A couple of young, clean-cut teenagers and their parents stood on the other side of the hedge, staring at the sixteen of us covered in mud, a horrified look on all of their faces. I couldn’t hear what they were saying to each other, but I had little doubt that it probably involved a stern lecture from the parents to their kids about longhaired hippies that do too many drugs. Little did they know that we were all stone cold sober!

Soon the reality started setting in that we were all filthy and smelly now, and in desperate need of a bath. Thank God that our campground had a large shower facility!

We all slipped and slid out of the puddle, laughing and carrying on as our hair and clothes dripped with muddy goop, our shoes making horrible squelching noises as we slowly trudged back to our campsite. Brian and I went into our tent just long enough to grab some clean clothes, towels and our bag of toiletries before we headed off toward the showers, with everyone else following closely behind.

When we got to the building that housed the showers, it became apparent to both Brian and me that there was going to be a bit of a problem. The boys shower section was on one side of a large dividing wall and the girls was on the other, but the two of us had only brought one bottle of shampoo and one bar of soap, not thinking that we would be taking showers at the same time in two different locations.

“Great, now what are we going to do?” I asked.

“I guess I could wait until you’re finished, and then I could take a shower,” Brian suggested.

Chrissy and April, who were right behind us, overheard our conversation.

“I have shampoo that you can use,” April offered in a friendly voice.

“You wouldn’t mind?” I asked.

“Of course not,” April smiled, as she and Chrissy walked past Brian and me toward the girl’s shower stalls.

“Well, that settles that, I guess,” Brian said. He held out the soap to me and said, “Here, at least take this, I can use the shampoo as soap if I have to.”

I nodded my agreement, took the soap, and headed off to the girls section to take my shower. There were three shower stalls on the left, three on the right, and four running along the wall at the end of the row, facing the other six stalls. Chrissy and April had each taken the two end stalls on my left, and Mary, Veronica and Mags had wandered in, taking the three stalls on the right. I knew that I needed to borrow some shampoo, so I went ahead and took the middle stall on the left, sandwiching myself between Chrissy and April, something that I was far from comfortable with. The walls between the stalls were only about shoulder level, and I was very self-conscious that things might be seen that I didn’t want to be seen. Soon Debbie, Eileen and Jill came in, taking three of the four stalls down at the end of the row, and most of the girls began chattering away, as if bathing together was just a normal occurrence. For me it felt a lot like being back in the locker room at high school, something that I still occasionally had nightmares about.

I leaned my head back under the shower nozzle, trying to keep to myself as much as possible, when April suddenly popped her head over the wall between us.

“Just let me know when you need some shampoo,” she said cheerfully.

“Oh, um, now is probably good, thanks,” I said, wiping the water out of my eyes.

April reached over the wall brandishing a bottle of shampoo, likely getting an eyeful of me without my clothes on in the process.

“So how long have you and Brian been dating?” she suddenly asked me, leaning back into her own stall.

I swear to God you could have heard a pin drop, even with all the showers on. All of the chatting amongst the other girls seemed to stop all at once, the room suddenly becoming eerily quiet. I had a feeling that April and Chrissy were the only two girls that were unaware of the love triangle that had existed between Roger, Brian and me, and suddenly every ear in the room had perked up, anxious to hear our conversation.

“Um, since late March,” I answered, scrubbing my hair as quickly as possible.

“How did you meet?” April continued on.

“Well, we actually met about a month and a half before that at Freddie and Mary’s place,” I said, and since I knew that someone would undoubtedly bring it up if I didn’t, I added, “I was dating Roger at the time.”

_Rinse the hair,_ my brain was screaming at me. _Rinse quickly and get the hell out of here!_ If I wasn’t feeling awkward enough showering in a roomful of girls that I didn’t particularly like, then getting the third degree about my love life certainly wasn’t going to help matters.

“So, you were dating Brian’s best friend first?” April asked sounding utterly scandalized. “How did you end up with Brian then?”

“Yes, how _did_ you end up with Brian?” Mary smirked from across the way.

Leave it to Mary to try and get a dig in at me where she could.

“It’s, uh, it’s complicated,” I said, quickly reaching for the soap.

“Oh, come on, I can tell Mary knows,” April wheedled.

“Yes, I believe it had something to do with Jane Austen…” Mary went on.

“Jane Austen? I love Jane Austen!” April gushed.

I knew there was something about the girl that I liked. At least she had good taste in authors. Her methods of interrogation were another matter entirely though. Chrissy, meanwhile, was as silent as the grave, likely soaking up every word like a dry sponge.

Okay, I thought, so they wanted the dirty details, did they? Fine. It was clear that I wasn’t going to get out of the shower without saying something, and lying about the situation would certainly do me no good, because there were too many people in the room who knew the truth and would call me out on it.

“Yes, it involved Jane Austen,” I said matter-of-factly. “Roger and I had broken up because he thought I was cheating on him with Brian. Then Brian took me to Jane Austen’s house in Hampshire to cheer me up since I was heartbroken and he knew how much I loved Jane Austen. Afterwards, we did a bit of stargazing, one thing led to another, and we ended up spending the night together at a bed & breakfast. The rest, as they say, is history.”

“Was Roger right? Were you cheating on him with Brian?” Chrissy suddenly asked.

“They were certainly snogging every opportunity they got,” Veronica chimed in.

“Not _every_ opportunity,” I corrected. “Just… just some of the time.”

“Yeah, like at me and Freddie’s place…” Mary smirked.

“Or in Carrie’s bedroom during a party…” Veronica volunteered.

“And don’t even get us started on the way they were acting during the game that we played at that party!” Mary exclaimed.

“How the hell do you guys even _know_ about some of that stuff??” I demanded. 

“Word gets around, my dear,” Mary replied cynically.

Everyone got very quiet at that point, the only noise being the sound of running water, as I watched Chrissy and April look past me to give each other a slightly shocked expression.

“So, are you living in England permanently now?” April asked me after a moment or two.

“Until next year when I have to go back to the States and finish up my degree, then my plan is to find a job in England and move back,” I replied, hoping that that would be an end to the whole thing once and for all.

I washed my face quickly then rinsed all the soap from my body before turning off the shower. I was just reaching for the towel, happy that my time in the confessional was nearly over, when male voices suddenly echoed off of the tile walls.

“Hello ladies!” Roger called out, his hair still damp from his shower as he sauntered into the girl’s area wearing a snug t-shirt and cut-off jeans, his friend Rik right behind him. “Nearly finished?”

A resounding chorus of “Roger! Rik! Get out!” sounded around the shower stalls.

“Ooh, not very hospitable, are they?” Rik smirked.

“Not very hospitable at all,” Roger agreed. He grinned salaciously at every girl in the room as they peeked over their shower stalls at him and went on, “You should have been nicer, you know, now we’re going to have to take your knickers.”

Like me, most of the girls had hung their clothes over the top of their shower doors, panties generally being on the top of the piles since they were the first thing we’d need to reach for when getting dressed. Roger and Rik spotted this fact immediately, and each took one side of the room, running along the stalls, reaching for as many pairs of underpants as they could grab before the girls in the end stalls got wise and snatched them up first.

Roger was the one robbing my side of the room, and I was in such a state of shock, and Roger moved so quickly, that all I could do was stand in my stall completely naked and motionless, and watch as my clean undies flew off the top of the shower door. The cacophony of girls screaming as their underwear disappeared right before their eyes was deafening. Not to mention the fact that every girl was hurriedly trying to cover up as best she could since Roger and Rik were stealing glances as well as panties.

“Thank you ladies!” Roger laughed, as he and Rik stood side by side near the entrance of the room, each clutching fistfuls of ladies undergarments. They glanced through their treasure, and Roger reached the pair he’d stolen from me as he said with a crooked grin, “Oh, I remember these!”

He waved them in my direction and said, “Now what are you going to do? Call for sweet little Brian to come help you?”

Before I could answer, Roger nudged Rik in the ribs and took off out the door. Most of the girls were still calling out fruitlessly for the guys to bring their knickers back, but it was too late, the men had taken their plunder elsewhere.

Within seconds the girls were plotting revenge, and I had to admit that some of the ideas that were being bounced around sounded pretty good. Everything from pouring glue in their shoes to shaving their eyebrows off while they slept was being considered.

We all got dried off and dressed, sans underwear, and I was the first one out, heading back to the campsite with a towel wrapped around my head and a pile of dirty clothes in my arms. I hadn’t made it very far before I heard my name being called from somewhere behind me, and turned to see Brian coming out of the guy’s shower area, his hair dripping wet.

“Hey you!” I smiled, walking back to join him.

“You’re actually finished with a shower before me?” Brian teased. “That must be a record!”

“Ha, ha, very funny,” I replied. “Believe me, with a roomful of girls all giving me the third degree, I had good reason for wanting to get out quickly.”

I told Brian about all the questions April and Chrissy had asked me as we walked together toward the campsite, and also about Roger and Rik’s antics as all of us girls were finishing up our showers.

“They did what??” Brian asked in an outraged voice, and as if to prove my point, a rope covered in girls panties suddenly came into view up ahead at our campsite. It was stretched between two trees just behind our rows of tents. Panties in every shape, size and color dangled from it by clothespins, waving at us in the breeze like a row of small colorful flags welcoming visitors to a Medieval fair.

“Oh look, there’s mine,” I said, trying to sound casual. “The white ones with the pink polka dots.”

“Roger, this isn’t funny!” Brian shouted. 

Roger and Rik clutched at their sides, laughing at the irate look on Brian’s face.

Soon everyone came straggling back into the campsite one at a time as they finished their showers, and were either shocked or amused by the display of ladies undergarments. The girls, as one might expect, were furious over having their unmentionables on display, while the guys for the most part thought that it was hilarious. Freddie in particular found the whole thing highly amusing, and slapped Roger and Rik each on the back for a job well done. He then took it upon himself to unclip each pair of panties from the line, examine them, and find out which girl they belonged to.

One by one each girl got her underwear back, and one by one we each went into our tents to get dressed all over again, this time _with_ panties.

Brian followed me into our tent as a light bulb seemed to go off in his head, and he asked, “Do you mean that none of you were wearing any knickers after your shower?”

“Well, we couldn’t, considering that Roger and Rik took them all,” I replied. “Although I think maybe Eileen and Debbie snatched theirs away in time before the panty bandits reached their stalls.”

“So… You’re not wearing any knickers now?” Brian asked hesitantly.

“Nope,” I smiled. I waggled my eyebrows at him and continued on, “Want me to stay that way for the rest of the night? It is your birthday after all.”

“Won’t that be uncomfortable?” Brian asked, swallowing hard.

Always so worried about everyone else’s welfare, I thought to myself. I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Maybe,” I shrugged. Then I walked up to him and ran a fingertip across his chest in feather-light strokes and whispered, “But I think I can live with it for one night.”

“God I love you,” Brian breathed, bending down to capture my mouth with his own.

Dusk was settling in on the Cornish coastline as the sixteen of us got ready to go out to The Watering Hole for the night, selecting whatever the nicest clothes were that we each had with us. Considering that we’d all packed for a camping trip and not a fashion show, that wasn’t saying much. I managed a pair of hip-hugger bell-bottomed jeans and one of my peasant tops that I’d brought along just in case. Thankfully I’d also brought my tan suede boots as a spare pair of shoes, since my ratty sneakers were now completely ruined from the mud. In fact, I made a mental note to ask Brian if he felt like looking for a shoe store somewhere in Cornwall the next day.

Brian had brought a pair of his black pants with him, a nice pinstriped button-down-the-front shirt, and his black boots as a backup to his sneakers, and the whole ensemble looked gorgeous on him as always.

Once everyone was dressed, we collectively trudged off toward the beach and walked the short distance to the nightclub, which, as Brian and I discovered, was incredibly difficult to navigate in boots. The place was filled with character and ambiance and impossible to miss since it was the only establishment located in the near vicinity, other than Mike and Janet’s bed & breakfast. There were glowing Christmas style lights covering the entire front of the building, and even more lights, along with lit tiki torches, off to the side of the building where there was an outdoor bar area filled with long picnic tables and benches. The décor inside was surfer chic, with surfboards lining the walls and fake palm trees tucked away in the nooks and crannies. Photos of sun drenched beaches and bikini clad girls provided the finishing touches, and I found myself wondering if I was in England or back home in California.

It was still fairly early, and since the band wasn’t due to arrive for about another hour or so, we decided to relax and have a nice dinner before we really got the party started. The menu consisted of surf ‘n’ turf items, including steaks, burgers, fish and shrimp dishes, and everyone was able to find something that they liked. I was glad that I had remembered to bring my camera with me, and started snapping shots of everyone congregated around the two large tables that the restaurant had given us, holding up drinks, making faces, and just generally having a good time.

When it was discovered that the restaurant had a large tropical drink that came in a huge martini glass made up of fruit juices, rums, liqueurs and fresh fruit, it was decided that the birthday boy must have one. The thing was truly enormous, even by American standards, and Brian spent his entire dinner nursing away at it. By the time he’d finished it, he was starting to get a little silly, and when our waitress brought him a slice of birthday cake with a candle, he joined in with everyone singing _Happy Birthday_ to himself. 

When dinner was done, we headed outside to the picnic tables where all the losers from our tug of war match earlier in the day bought the first round of drinks for the winners as promised. Well, all except for Brian, who, even though he was on the losing team was denied buying anyone a drink because it was his special day. Instead, all the guys, and even the bartender, plied him with liquor the rest of the night, not allowing him pay for a thing. He was given shots and mixed drinks, and before long he was feeling no pain whatsoever.

I wasn’t far behind him since I’d had a couple glasses of wine with dinner and a strong Mai-Tai sort of concoction once we were outside. Before long, Brian was being offered another shot, and instead of drinking it, handed it to me. It had an interesting peppermint sort of smell to it, so I downed it in one gulp. It completely sent me over the edge, and soon I was seeing double.

The two of us were sitting on one of the picnic benches off in a corner, leaning our backs against the outer wall of the restaurant when somebody a few yards away started joking about the panty prank earlier in the day. Brian looked at me in a daze, glanced briefly at my crotch then back up again, waggling his eyebrows over the fact that I still wasn’t wearing any underwear beneath my jeans. I laughed a little at the drunken “come-hither” look he was giving me, but soon we were staring at each other’s mouths, desperately wanting to kiss each other.

Completely uninhibited by the alcohol, once we started kissing we had no desire to stop. Despite the fact that several of our friends were all just a stone’s throw away, we kissed each other deep and hard, our tongues delving into each other’s mouths with a longing that left us wanting more. Our hands groped and pawed at each other, as we tried to find a position on the uncomfortable wooden bench where our bodies could be pressed as closely together as possible. I finally decided that the best thing to do was just climb onto his lap, so I drunkenly swung one leg to the other side of his body until I was straddling him face to face, my legs hanging over the opposite side of the bench behind him. I settled my hips against his body, as Brian wrapped his arms around my waist and I wrapped mine around his neck, our mouths devouring each other’s until we were left breathless.

Suddenly we heard the strains of a sound check coming from inside the bar, and realized that the band must be about ready to go on. Most of our friends went inside, but Brian and I didn’t seem to care much about listening to the music. We were far too engrossed with each other.

Brian’s hands roamed down the back of my jeans as I trailed kisses down his neck. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall, moaning slightly as I sucked and nibbled at his throat. I could feel his body responding underneath me as he grabbed my ass, pressing me into the growing bulge inside his pants.

“Holy fuck, I see the rabbits are at it,” I heard Freddie say somewhere behind me.

“Wait, I thought Carrie and I were the rabbits,” Roger said.

“Oh, that’s right, how silly of me. They can’t possibly be rabbits when they’re already ducks,” Freddie replied. He paused for a moment, and then continued on, “Well, they’re certainly the randiest ducks that _I’ve_ ever seen. And I blame you for this you know.”

“Me? What did I do?” Roger protested.

“You’re the one who started this whole thing!” Freddie cried. “She was a virgin before you got ahold of her, and now she’s… well… _this,_ so it _must_ be your fault.”

I kissed my way back up Brian’s neck until I found his mouth again, plunging my tongue back inside as his hands ran up inside my shirt. Before long he was tugging at my bra and had it unclasped after a couple of tries.

“Did he just undo her bra?” Roger asked.

“Mm, it would seem so,” Freddie replied.

“Remember that time when Carrie and I got drunk at the Kensington, and Mr. Goody-two-shoes over there had to walk us home for misbehaving? What happened to that guy?” Roger asked.

“I told you, darling, you absolutely ruined Carrie,” Freddie said. “You corrupted her, and now she’s corrupting poor Brian.”

Brian’s hands slid around to the front of my shirt, roaming up under my bra to cup my breasts as his mouth found my neck, kissing and suckling until I was whimpering with pleasure.

“You know, if we just stand here and continue watching, I bet they’ll just start fucking right in front of us,” Freddie grinned.

“Brian’s had a lot to drink, you know,” Roger said in a serious tone. “How much has Carrie had to drink?”

“Let’s see, she had a couple glasses of wine at dinner, then she had another drink since we’ve been out here,” Freddie said.

“I know I saw her with a shot glass at one point,” Roger added. “She’s drunk too.”

“So, what should we do?” Freddie asked.

“Fellas, what are you doing? The band’s starting up,” Deaky’s voice suddenly added to the mix.

“We’re debating on what to do with these two,” Freddie replied.

“Oh. Oh…” John said.

Brian found my mouth with his again as he pulled my shirt up slightly in the back, grabbing at me frantically with his hands. Almost without realizing it, we’d started to grind our bodies together, aching with a desperate need as I reached up to start unbuttoning Brian’s shirt. Within seconds every button was undone, exposing his chest and stomach to my greedy hands and mouth. I slowly slid my way down Brian’s lap, kissing his chest first and working my way downward.

“His trousers are going to be the next thing to go,” Freddie laughed.

“Shit…” Roger mumbled, clearly torn about what he should do. “I can’t let him make a fool of himself on his birthday…”

“Oh my God! He does have a conscience! Do you hear that everyone? Roger does have a conscience!” Freddie cried.

“Shut up,” Roger mumbled.

Somewhere in the recesses of my mind I heard footsteps approaching as I moved lower and lower beneath the table. I was just about to reach for the button on Brian’s pants, when Roger suddenly said, “Hey you two, come on. You need to go back to the campground.”

“What?” Brian asked, bleary-eyed.

Roger grabbed me under my arms and heaved me back up into a sitting position on the bench seat, saying, “You’re both drunk. You need to go back to the campground.”

“I’m…I’m not drunk,” Brian protested.

“Yes you are, mate, now come on…”

Roger took each of us by the arm, made sure that I had my purse and camera and Brian had his wallet, and walked us all the way back to the campground, which was not an easy task since we were tripping and swaying in our stacked-heel boots the entire way.

“So, are you havin’ a good birthday, man?” Roger asked Brian.

“Oh yeah,” Brian slurred. “You and Freddie and… and John, y-you’re the best.”

“Well, it’s about to get a whole lot better,” Roger grinned, as we approached our tent.

“Where is everybody?” I asked, momentarily forgetting what was going on.

“They’re all back at The Watering Hole dear,” Roger explained. “You two get to have a bit of alone time with nobody bothering you.”

Brian looked at me and waggled his eyebrows, then glanced back at Roger and said in what he thought was a whisper, “She never put her knickers back on you know, after you took ‘em from her.”

“You don’t say,” Roger smiled. He slapped his friend on the back and said, “You’re a lucky man.”

Roger then spotted my camera dangling from my shoulder and quickly came up with a way of having the last laugh.

“Can I see your camera, Carrie?” Roger asked innocently. “You guys look so great together, I just want to take a couple photos so the two of you can remember tonight.”

“Okay,” I said, gladly handing my camera over. It didn’t occur to me that Brian’s shirt was wide open, my bra was undone and falling off of me, and both Brian and I looked an absolute mess with bloodshot eyes and our hair sticking up in about ten different directions. Instead of being concerned, Brian and I just wrapped an arm around each other and smiled for the camera as Roger took our picture, nearly blinding us with the bright flash.

“Perfect,” Roger grinned, handing my camera back to me. “It’s always nice to have memories.”

I took my camera back and Brian mumbled something in agreement with Roger’s comment about memories.

“You two have a nice night screwing each other’s brains out, okay?” Roger said sweetly, giving his friend a quick pat on the shoulder before taking off back to the bar.

“Sounds good to me,” I purred, grabbing Brian by the front of his shirt and pulling him toward me. 

Brian and I started kissing again as we literally stumbled into our tent, nearly tripping over the corner of our sleeping bag as we slowly and carefully lowered ourselves to the ground. Our clothes were off in a matter of seconds, even though we fumbled with the zippers on our boots a bit. We snuggled deep inside our sleeping bag, our warm bodies pressed together, as Brian wasted no time in driving deep and hard inside of me.

“Oh God…” I gasped. That first thrust was always a favorite of mine, and never failed to take my breath away.

Brian’s hips rocked back and forth slowly as he tried to find his rhythm, which proved to be slightly difficult considering our drunken state. I wrapped my legs firmly around his body, guiding him deeper inside of me, matching every thrust as we moved our hips in unison. The alcohol had heightened our senses and everything seemed to feel even better than it usually did. We were both whimpering and moaning loudly as Brian moved faster and harder inside of me.

Despite the fact that there wasn’t much room in the sleeping bag, we managed to shift our bodies until I was on top. This was always a favorite position of Brian’s, but tonight, with the alcohol heightening his pleasure, he really let loose. His hands gripped my ass firmly as he bit his bottom lip, a deep crease forming between his brows. Soon he was gasping for air and muttering a few choice expletives in between breaths as I found just the right spot.

“Oh God…Come here baby…” Brian breathed, as we rolled over again putting him back on top. He reached out to unzip the side of the sleeping bag, and lifted my legs up in the air, plunging his hard cock deep inside of me once again as he kissed my ankles and legs. He drove harder and faster until I was screaming with pleasure.

“Brian! Oh God, Brian!” I cried as my climax washed over me like a tidal wave. I clung to the sleeping bag with a vice-like grip as my entire body shook with pleasure, my breath catching in my throat.

“Oh…fuck…” Brian gasped as he came deep inside me, his damp, sweaty curls hanging down all around his face as he thrust into me one last time. He collapsed in the sleeping bag beside me as the two of us tried desperately to catch our breath.

“Happy birthday,” I smiled between gasps.

“The night’s not over yet,” Brian whispered back.


	43. Chapter 43

“No, she’s left handed, trust me…”

“Quick, get one of their cameras…”

I could hear voices whispering, but they seemed to be coming from a long distance, as my hung over brain tried to clear the cobwebs and make sense of the world once more. Then again, maybe I was just dreaming. But if I was dreaming, then why was something was tickling my nose? There was definitely something tickling my nose, right? My brain cells slowly started to reawaken, and I recalled the fact that I was camping, in a tent, and there could potentially be a bug, or something far worse, crawling on my face.

I reached up to slap it away, and instead, got a face full of something wet and sticky.

“What the…” I croaked, trying to open my bleary eyes.

I heard muffled giggling, and was barely able to focus my eyes on Brian lying just inches away, when he too reached up to swat at something on his nose, getting a face full of what appeared to be whipped cream instead.

“What the hell?” he mumbled.

The next thing I knew a flash bulb was going off, and there were voices laughing hysterically inside our tent.

“Damn it Roger and Freddie!” Brian screamed, clutching at his head as he did, adding even more whipped cream to his face and hair.

“Ugh, my head,” I groaned, forgetting that I too still had whipped cream in my hand as I reached for my forehead.

“Come on, we thought you two were into this sort of thing,” Freddie laughed.

“I’m gonna kill you both. I swear to God I’m gonna fucking kill you both,” Brian fumed.

“Why do you two insist on picking on the two of us?” I demanded as I rolled over onto my back, pulling at the sleeping bag to make sure that my naked body was covered.

“Because it’s just so much fun darling,” Freddie grinned. “Although, I must say, the two of you looked so adorable all snuggled together when we walked in that I almost didn’t have the heart to do it to you. Almost.”

I spotted the towel that I’d used after my shower the day before lying on the floor of the tent nearby and reached for it to wipe the whipped cream from my face and hand before giving it to Brian.

“Well, I don’t suppose the two of you could leave and let us go back to sleep could you?” Brian mumbled.

“What would be the fun in that?” Freddie questioned, plopping himself down on the floor Indian style, clearly not intending to go anywhere, with Roger following suit immediately thereafter. “Besides, it’s getting late. Don’t you two think you ought to join the world at some point today?”

“Why? What time is it?” Brian asked.

“Almost noon,” Freddie replied. “Everybody else has been up for hours.”

“What time did we finally go to sleep last night?” I asked. “I don’t even remember.”

“Well, let’s see, everyone could still hear you screwing each other when we came back from The Watering Hole, and that was about 2:00 am, so pretty late I’d say,” Roger replied mockingly.

“God, I feel like shit,” Brian groaned. “How much did I drink last night?”

“A lot,” Roger grinned. “Even by my standards. I had to walk you two back to your tent last night before you made a scene at the restaurant.”

“What kind of a scene?” Brian asked, a deep crease forming between his eyebrows.

“Wait… Were Brian and I making out on a picnic bench at some point?” I asked, little snippets of the previous night’s activities starting to come back to me slowly.

“Making out isn’t the word for it, darling,” Freddie corrected.

“Yeah, if my memory serves me correctly, I seem to remember Brian taking Carrie’s bra off, and Carrie unbuttoning Brian’s shirt, and then nearly unbuttoning his trousers, before I stepped in and dragged them back here. What do you say, Fred, sound about right?” Roger asked thoughtfully.

“Add to that the fact that they were eating each other’s faces off and grinding their naughty bits together, and that’s pretty much how I remember it,” Freddie replied.

“I don’t believe you. That doesn’t sound like us,” Brian said, shaking his head in disbelief. “We wouldn’t go that far at a restaurant.”

“I thought you might say that, so I took a photo of the condition you were in when we got back to the campground,” Roger said with a sanctimonious grin. “All you’ve got to do is get the film in Carrie’s camera developed and you’ll see what I mean.”

“Oh my God…” I said, rubbing my eyes with the heels of my hands. “Did everyone see us doing this?”

“Just Freddie and me,” Roger answered. “Oh, and John. Of course, those who didn’t see you, were told all about it right away by Freddie and me.”

“Of course they were,” Brian stated flatly.

“And, like I said, even if they didn’t see you at the restaurant, it was pretty obvious what was going on inside of your tent when we all came back,” Roger smirked. He demonstrated his point by using his best girly voice as he gasped, “Oh God, Brian! Ooh, right there, baby! Yes!”

“Shut up!” I yelled at him. My towel was still laying on the sleeping bag on top of Brian and me, so I waded it up and threw it at him as hard as I could. “You know I don’t sound like that!”

“Oh, I know what you sound like,” Roger laughed, deftly dodging the thrown towel.

“All right, it’s time for you two to go,” Brian said with finality. “We’ll be out as soon as we’re dressed.”

We both felt pretty gross after a long night of sex, not to mention the whipped cream that was now all over our face and hair, but got dressed anyway, hoping that we could shower at some point. Again we had to wear our boots, since those were the only shoes we had left, and it was decided that a trip into the nearest town was in order to get something more suitable for camping.

The ribbing from our fellow campers started as soon as we emerged from the tent. Whistles, cheers and catcalls came from all directions, along with comments like, “Hey! It’s the sex Gods!” “Have a nice birthday, Brian?” and “I didn’t know you had it in you, man!” Brian and I both turned very pink around the ears and tried to ignore the comments as best we could as we made our way into the kitchen area to pour ourselves a couple of cups of strong English tea.

The girls were all congregated in a small group around what was left of the morning’s campfire, whispering to each other out of earshot as they kept glancing our way, and I nudged Brian gently in the ribs nodding toward them, as I whispered, “Do you see what I mean about girls? At least the guys are out with it. They make their snide little comments, and then they’re done. The only thing that girls are good for is whispering about you behind your back.”

“Ladies,” Brian suddenly said loudly as he reached for my hand and led me to a couple of unoccupied folding chairs near the campfire. “If you have something to say to either of us, at least have the courtesy of saying it where we can hear you.”

The whispering abruptly stopped and every female in the campground looked our way.

“What makes you think we were talking about either of you?” Mary asked waspishly.

“Well if you weren’t, then there would be no need to whisper, now would there?” Brian shot back.

Yes! Finally someone on my side! I thought to myself. I could have leapt off of my seat and done Snoopy dances right in front of everyone.

“If you must know, we were talking about how happy you and Carrie seem to be, and we’ve been placing bets all morning on how soon you’re going to pop the question. Even the boys have been in on it,” Mary smirked.

“Really?” Brian smiled over the rim of his teacup. “That’s good to know. I may want to get in on that bet.”

He squeezed my hand and grinned at me, and my heart suddenly sprouted wings. Marriage?? Were we actually talking about marriage?? I just stared at Brian in wide-eyed surprise, unable to believe that he didn’t seem to be utterly terrified by the prospect the way that Roger would have.

“Hey Rog, where’s the nearest shoe shop around here?” Brian suddenly asked, snapping me out of my lovely daydreams involving flowers and gowns and tall handsome men wearing tuxedos.

“There’s not much around Perranporth, but Truro’s not far,” Roger replied. “In fact, I was thinking of going there myself to pick up a few things from home.”

I’d almost forgotten that Roger’s family was so close by.

“Think you could show me where to go? Carrie and I have got to find something to wear other than these boots,” Brian said.

“Yeah, no problem,” Roger shrugged.

“I want to go too,” Freddie chimed in. “I forgot to bring my swim shorts, and we were talking about going down to the beach today.”

It was a perfect day for the beach I had to admit. As English weather went, it was uncharacteristically warm and sunny, and almost reminded me of the weather back home. Well, not _July_ weather back home, but perhaps April weather.

Brian and I grabbed something to eat, used a bit of water left in the teakettle to wash the whipped cream off of our faces and hands, and the two of us along with Freddie and Roger piled into Brian’s Mini to head off into Truro.

It wasn’t a far drive at all, and the town itself was adorable with narrow winding streets, typical old English seaside buildings, and the large Truro Cathedral, which seemed to dominate the landscape.

We headed toward an area called Lemon Quay, where most of the shops of any significance were to be found. The first shoe store that we came across was called Clark’s Shoes, and even though they didn’t exactly sell beachwear, they did have plain canvas Ked’s style sneakers that Brian and I both decided would be perfect for our needs, so we each bought a pair in navy blue. Once we were done shopping for shoes, we walked down the way to a men’s clothing store that was relatively small, but sold a variety of things. We found the bathing suit section, and of course, Freddie had to gripe the entire time about the lack of selection. 

Roger, Brian and I wandered around the store looking at various things while Freddie took forever to pick out his swimming shorts, and as the guys were rifling through a rack of shirts, it occurred to me that Brian hadn’t shaved in a couple of days. He had a thick crop of dark stubble growing in across his chin and jawline, and I decided that it looked very sexy on him.

He noticed that I was looking his way, paused in his perusal of men’s shirts, and asked with a crooked grin, “Is there a reason that you’re staring at me?”

“Huh?” I asked, tearing my eyes away from his jawline to look into his bemused hazel eyes instead. “Oh, yeah. I was looking at your stubbly chin,” I replied. “I think you should grow a beard.”

“Really?” Brian asked, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. 

Roger was standing on the other side of the clothing rack looking across it towards Brian with a quirked eyebrow.

“I’ve often thought about growing a beard,” Brian confessed. “You think I’d look good with one?”

“You’d look like Jesus,” Roger stated flatly.

“No he wouldn’t, he’d look sexy,” I smiled, waggling my eyebrows in Brian’s direction.

“Freddie won’t like it,” Roger said shaking his head.

“Freddie won’t like what?” the man himself asked as he wandered over to us clutching a paper bag.

“Brian’s thinking of growing a beard,” Roger explained.

“Why on earth would you do that? You’d look like Jesus for God’s sake!” Freddie exclaimed.

Roger’s eyebrows flew into the air as he looked at me and motioned his hand toward Freddie as if to say, “See!”

“He won’t look like Jesus!” I argued. “If anything, he’d look like a tall, dark romance hero straight out of 17th century England.”

Roger and Freddie both made groaning noises and rolled their eyes.

“Whatever darling,” Freddie said to me with a dismissive wave. “I don’t care how he looks while we’re camping, but the beard’s got to go before our next live show.”

With that, we all left the store, and Brian gave me an amused sidelong glance as he asked, “A 17th century English romance hero?”

“Yeah, you know, Charles II’s era. Long, dark, curly hair, beard and mustache,” I explained, the thought of Brian wearing a ruffled shirt and pantaloons swimming through my head.

Brian barked with laughter and said, “You’ve read too many romance novels you know that?”

I couldn’t help but nod in agreement as we headed back out into the bright sunshine of Truro’s Lemon Quay district hand in hand.

Our last stop was to visit Roger’s former residence in order for Roger to pick up a few things. We jig-jogged down a few streets, then turned down a curving, sloping narrow road that contained some very lovely two story houses that I thought wouldn’t look out of place in California. They were a far cry from the typical terraced houses that I’d become accustomed to in and around the London area at any rate.

Brian pulled up in the driveway of a large red brick house, close to where the street dead-ended, and we all got out of the car and shuffled up to the door. Roger knocked briefly then opened the door a crack, calling out, “Mum! Are you home?”

“Oh! Mum, it’s Roger!” a female’s voice called out from somewhere inside the house.

Roger ushered all of us inside a lavishly decorated modern-looking living room and closed the door as the owner of the voice came toward us from around a corner. It was obvious that it had to be Roger’s sister because she looked very similar to him – medium height and thin with blonde hair and large blue puppy-dog eyes.

“Roggie, what are you doing home?” she asked.

“Remember, I told you my mates and I were going to be camping in Perranporth for my birthday,” Roger replied. “I came home to get a couple of things.”

“Who did you bring with you this time?” she asked, craning her neck to get a better view of who stood behind her brother.

“You know Brian and Freddie,” Roger said, stepping aside slightly and motioning toward each of them with his hand, both men saying a quick hello at the mention of their names, “and this is Carrie. Carrie this is my sister, Clare.”

“Wait, is this the Carrie that…” Clare started to ask. 

“Yes, this is the Carrie that I mentioned the last time I was here,” Roger quickly interrupted, that old familiar scowl forming between his brows.

“It’s nice to finally meet you Clare,” I said, extending my hand.

“Likewise,” Clare replied, shaking my offered hand.

“So, where’s mum?” Roger asked after clearing his throat loudly.

“She’s coming,” Clare said airily.

Sure enough, within seconds, a smartly dressed older blonde woman, similar in height to her children, entered the room saying, “Well, hello Roger dear. What brings you by?”

“I just came by to get a couple of things for our camping trip,” Roger replied. “I need some of my old shoes and some clothes and things.”

“Well, everything’s still where you left it,” his mom told him. She looked around at the rest of us and said, “Hello Brian. Hello Freddie.”

“Hello Mrs. Taylor,” they both said very formally and respectfully.

“How are the creases in your trousers, Freddie? Still as perfect as ever?” she asked, allowing a slight smile to show on her face.

“Always,” Freddie replied with a slightly terrified grin.

“And who is this young lady? I don’t believe we’ve met,” Roger’s mother said, her eyes flicking over me in a scrutinizing manner.

“This is Carrie, Mum,” Clare explained before Roger had the chance.

_“The_ Carrie? The that Roger went on about…”

“Yes, Mum, this is Carrie,” Roger interrupted yet again. “Carrie, this is my mum, Winifred.”

“Nice to meet you Mrs. Taylor,” I said, extending my hand once again.

“Very nice to finally meet you as well, dear,” Winifred said as she shook my hand. “Roger’s told us all about you, of course.”

“Has he?” I asked, suddenly feeling very tongue-tied.

“Oh yes, the last time he was here your name cropped up in about every other sentence,” Winifred smiled.

I looked at Roger, who couldn’t seem to make eye contact with me at all, as my mind raced back to the last time that Roger had visited his family. It had been right after our break-up, which puzzled me exceedingly. Why would he be talking about me to his family at all after we’d just broken up? He had made the trip down to Cornwall in order to put some distance between us and try and forget about me. Or, at least, that’s what it seemed like at the time.

“Have any of you eaten?” Winifred suddenly asked, tearing my thoughts away from Roger and our difficult break-up. “I see you all look as thin as usual.”

“We ate breakfast at camp, but that’s been it for today,” Roger explained.

“Well, go and find what you need in your room, and I’ll make up some sandwiches,” she said.

“Great, thanks mum,” Roger smiled.

Winifred and Clare wandered off toward the kitchen, while Roger had the rest of us follow him up the stairs to his old bedroom. Along the way there were old family photographs lining the walls, including many of Roger from the time he was a baby up until his teenage years at least. I was surprised to see that he’d been a pudgy baby just like I was, with chubby little cheeks and those big blue eyes of his probably already breaking hearts as he smiled for the camera. There were pictures of Roger sitting behind his first drum kit, pictures of Roger looking neat and tidy in his little school uniform, and pictures of Roger looking visibly irritated as he was forced to share a bath with his baby sister. I couldn’t help but smile at the last one, and found myself wondering how different things might have been if I’d been able to look at all the pictures from his past as his girlfriend, and not just a friend. There was a heaviness in my heart that I couldn’t quite explain.

We reached the top of the stairs and entered Roger’s old room, and it was a bit like walking into a time capsule. It was clear that his mother hadn’t changed a thing since he’d left. The walls were still covered with pictures of The Beatles, The Who and The Yardbirds, amongst others, and in a small bit of wall space just above Roger’s bed, was a cluster of pictures featuring bikini-clad girls and sexy movie sirens like Ursula Andres and Bridget Bardot. Typical Roger, I thought to myself.

The bed was perfectly made with light blue patterned sheets and a dark blue bedspread, his dresser still held treasures and framed photos from his childhood, and there were tall bookshelves lining the walls housing everything from comic books and model cars to record albums and old drumsticks. It was so easy to picture Roger inhabiting this small space, lounging on his bed listening to records, chatting with his latest girlfriend on the phone, back in the days before the lure of pop-stardom and the city of London beckoned him away from home. I couldn’t help wishing somehow that I had known him back then.

Roger opened up his closet and dug around inside until he found an old pair of white sneakers similar to the ones Brian and I had just purchased, pulling them out and tossing them carelessly onto his bed. He reached up onto a shelf at the back of the closet next and pulled down an old worn tambourine and a beat up snare drum, lobbing both items onto the bed next to the shoes. After that, he rifled through his dresser drawers adding a few pairs of shorts and some t-shirts to the pile, and then reached for one of the old sets of drumsticks sitting on a nearby bookshelf, throwing those in for good measure as well. He stood in front of his bed, hands on his hips, and surveyed the accumulated items with a nod of approval.

“You’re going to bring a snare drum back to camp?” Brian asked dubiously.

“Sure, why not?” Roger replied. “We’re bound to have a campfire sing-a-long or two, and I’ll need something to bang on and keep time.”

This seemed reasonable enough, so each of us reached for something and helped Roger haul it down to the car. When we were finished, Roger’s mom had a plate of ham sandwiches and four bottles of cold Coke waiting for us in the kitchen. Considering that none of us had eaten much that day, the sandwiches seemed heavenly, and our plates were cleared in no time at all.

We thanked Roger’s mom for the food and then made our excuses, saying that we had plans back at camp. Roger told his mom and sister goodbye and said he’d see them soon, and I told them again how happy I was to finally meet them both. Freddie and Brian also said their goodbyes, and soon we were off, winding down the narrow road once again, heading back in the direction of Perranporth.

When we got back to the campsite, everyone was gone. A hastily written note was pinned to the front of John and Veronica’s tent, which read, “We all went to the beach – meet us there.” Roger, Freddie, Brian and I all changed into our bathing suits and grabbed some towels before heading off to join our friends, but, of course, not before Brian and I got out our trusty cameras and current novels to take along with us as well.

When we got to the beach there were people everywhere. I was expecting to see just the people from our campsite, but no, the warm weather seemed to have brought out half of the people from in and around the Perranporth area. The two Johns, Harris and Deacon, were goofing around out in the water with a group of people that I didn’t recognize when they saw the four of us approaching and walked over to greet us.

“There you are!” Deaky smiled, his long brown hair wet and plastered to his face and neck. He was wearing nothing but a pair of snug black swimming trunks that left very little to the imagination. In fact, all of the guys seemed to be wearing similar garments, and it took a lot of effort on my part not to let my eyes wander and check out the merchandise that was very clearly on display. “We were starting to think you got lost.”

“No, not possible,” Roger bragged. “I couldn’t get lost around here if I tried.”

“Well, there’s some very pretty girls over here who say that they know you,” John nodded over his shoulder with a mischievous grin.

“Pretty girls you say?” Roger smirked. “Lead the way my good fellow!”

Freddie, meanwhile, had spotted Mary a short distance away, and went over to join her, Veronica, Chrissy and April as they lounged across beach towels in the sand, soaking up the bright English sunshine.

“Well, that just leaves you and me,” I said to Brian. “Think we can find room on this beach to breathe, let alone sit down?”

“Where did all these people come from?” Brian wondered out loud, looking around at the various bodies dotting the sand.

“You got me, but I think there’s a bit of space over there,” I said, pointing to an empty patch of sand about ten yards away from us.

We laid out our towels and sat down trying to decide if we wanted to go out and mingle with everyone, or if we just wanted to lay in the sun and relax for a bit. In the end, relaxing sounded like the better option, but first Brian decided to take a few pictures to add to the photo albums back home. I leaned back on my beach towel and smiled up at him, posing in my bikini, and after taking several shots he then wandered off for a few minutes to take a few pictures of everyone else as well. I decided to read while he was gone and flopped onto my stomach, opening my book to the place where I had it marked.

After making it through an entire chapter, I found myself wondering where Brian was at and what could possibly be taking him so long when he was only supposed to be taking a few pictures. I turned around and sat up, holding my hand over my eyes to block the sun, and off to my right about fifteen yards or so away was Brian, chatting with Roger, the two Johns, Rik, Doug and a bevvy of bikini clad English girls. I didn’t think too much of it at first, until a tall willowy blonde wearing a pale pink bikini, whom I’d never seen in my life, sidled up to Brian and starting touching his camera. Brian, being ever so obliging, lifted the camera up so that she could see it better, and was clearly enjoying pointing out the various bells and whistles on one of his most prized possessions as the girl listened rapturously.

Don’t be jealous, I chided myself. Nothing is going to happen. He’s just showing her his camera.

In the meantime, while Brian was entertaining his blonde companion, I noticed that Roger had suddenly become very chummy with a buxom brunette in a red bikini, just feet from where Brian was standing. The two of them were laughing and carrying on when suddenly little-miss-red-bikini reached out to tickle Roger’s sides. His response was to toss her over his shoulder and run toward the water with her protesting loudly the entire way.

I wasn’t sure quite why, but the whole thing bothered me a little. In fact, if I was being honest with myself, I could swear that I felt a slight twinge of jealousy. I was being ridiculous though, I knew. Roger wasn’t my boyfriend any more. He was free to do whatever he wanted, with whomever he wanted. It was certainly none of my business.

I reopened my book with a little more force than was necessary, and tried to concentrate on the words in front of me. It was pointless though. Something about meeting Roger’s mom and sister and seeing the inside of the house where he’d grown up had managed to dredge up some old feelings, and now to see Roger parading himself around with whoever this girl was just made matters worse. I knew it shouldn’t have bothered me. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t seen Roger display such wanton behavior before. But something about getting a glimpse into his past that afternoon had really done my head in, making me feel slightly disheartened, and I couldn’t quite shake it somehow.

I snapped my book shut and shook my head, attempting to get such ridiculous thoughts out of my brain, when the tall willowy blonde with Brian made a move that caught my eye. She was now laughing at something that Brian had said, and smacked him playfully before slithering an arm around his waist.

_Oh, hell no!_ My brain screamed. It was bad enough to touch my man’s camera, but touching my man himself was another matter entirely! This wasn’t just chatting anymore - this was full blown, blatant flirting!

I slapped my book down hard onto my beach towel and immediately bolted up off the ground, marching, as casually as possible, over to my boyfriend and his acquaintance. 

The girl standing with Brian saw me coming before he did, and gave me a curious look as I approached. Brian followed her gaze, swallowed hard, and looked at me very sheepishly, before looking down at the ground.

“Hey there – feel like introducing me to your friend?” I asked Brian, painting a syrupy sweet smile on my face as I folded my arms threateningly across my chest.

“Oh, hey babe,” Brian said innocently. “I was just talking to an old acquaintance of mine. Carrie, this is Sandra, Sandra, this is my girlfriend Carrie.”

“Oh, nice to meet you,” Sandra said quickly, removing her arm from around Brian’s waist to give me a little wave instead of offering to shake my hand. “I didn’t know Brian had a new girlfriend.”

I just arched an eyebrow at her and said, “Yes. Yes he does.”

She completely ignored me, and instead turned back to Brian and asked, “So when did you and Chrissy break up?”

Brian, now looking decidedly nervous, simply said, “Um, back in February.”

“Wow, so when was the last time I saw you then?” Sandra asked, cocking her head playfully to the side, as she reached up to twirl a lock of her long blonde hair. “It hasn’t been a whole year, has it?”

“Uh, very nearly,” Brian replied quietly. “I think it must have been August of last year, when we did our tour of Cornwall.”

“Sandra, darling! How have you been?” Freddie asked loudly, suddenly showing up at my side and wrapping a protective arm around my shoulders. I was completely taken aback, and wondered what on earth he was up to.

“Good, Freddie, how about you?” Sandra asked, clearly irritated by the interruption.

“Fabulous as always, darling,” Freddie replied with his usual Cheshire cat grin. He then turned to Brian and asked, “May I borrow your lovely girlfriend for a moment, dear? Mary and I were having an argument about where a certain city was located in the States, and since Carrie is American, she’s the only one who can possibly settle it.”

“Oh, um, yeah,” Brian shrugged.

“Excellent. See you Sandra!” Freddie waved over his shoulder as he dragged me away toward the cluster of beach towels that housed Mary, Veronica, Chrissy and April.

“What’s this all about, Freddie?” I demanded in a low whisper.

“Just sit down, darling, we need to tell you something,” Freddie replied, as he motioned toward an empty section of beach towel near Mary and the others.

“We?” I asked as I gingerly sat down.

“Carrie, do _not_ trust that girl over there!” April suddenly burst out as she reached out and grabbed ahold of my arm, squeezing it with a vice-like grip.

“Wait… What? What’s going on?” I asked, casually looking down at the death grip that April had on my arm. Thankfully, she realized that she was causing me pain and quickly let go.

“She means Sandra,” Mary supplied. “She’s been after Brian since last summer.”

“Who is she?” I asked. “How do you guys know her?”

“She’s a friend of a friend of Roger’s,” Veronica explained. “She came to all of Queen’s shows here in Cornwall last year, and decided early on that she had her sights set on Brian.”

“The two of them had a bit of a fling,” Mary said quietly, glancing sideways at Chrissy as she said it.

“Last summer?” I asked, a crease beginning to form between my brows. “But, last summer I thought Brian was…”

“With me?” Chrissy volunteered. “He was.”

I stared at the five of them in stunned silence, trying to digest what I’d just been told, and could barely stammer out, “B…but, that doesn’t sound like Brian.”

“I was the one who found them making out backstage at the Carnon Downs Festival,” Mary explained. “Chrissy was back in London at the time.”

“Mary told me all about it when they got home, and Brian and I had a huge argument,” Chrissy added. “Then a few months later I found some letters that Sandra had written to him beginning in August, and when I confronted him about it, he didn’t say much. It was only a couple of months later that we broke up.”

“Was she the reason that you broke up?” I asked. It occurred to me that Brian had never actually told me the reason why he and Chrissy had broken up, only that things had ended badly between them.

“There were other reasons too, but Sandra was a big part of it,” Chrissy replied.

“I…I don’t know what to say about this,” I said, my head spinning in a million different directions. “I don’t really know what I should do.”

“This from the girl who gave Kim Evens a black eye?” Freddie exclaimed.

“I heard about that!” April gasped. “That was _you_ that gave her the black eye?”

“Does everyone always know my business??” I asked.

“Look, the reason that we’re telling you this, darling, is because if ever there was a girl that you should be concerned about, Sandra is it,” Freddie said. “If you thought that Kim was determined to get Roger away from you, then let me tell you, she’s got nothing on this girl.”

I turned and looked back at Sandra, who was laughing again at something Brian said, and I could feel the hair on the back of my neck starting to stand on end. I knew I had to get him away from her, if for no other reason than to get him alone and get to the bottom of what happened between the two of them the year before.

“Don’t worry, it’ll be taken care of,” I said venomously.

“Now that’s the girl I know!” Freddie cheered, slapping me proudly on the back.

I stood up suddenly and marched determinedly back over to Brian.

“Sweetheart, I’m not feeling very well,” I lied, reaching out to hug Brian’s left arm as I looked up at him with my best puppy dog eyes. “Can we go back to the campsite?”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Brian said, giving me a worried look. He glanced back at Sandra briefly and said, “Sorry, I’ve got to go.”

“That’s okay. I’m sure I’ll see you around,” Sandra cooed.

I let go of Brian’s arm and strode back across the beach to my towel, Brian following right behind me. I quickly started picking up my things and shoving them under my arm as I reached for my towel and shook the sand out of it violently.

“What’s wrong?” Brian asked. “You were fine a minute ago.”

“You and I need to talk,” I said.


	44. Chapter 44

I strode away toward the campsite, trying to outpace Brian in the hopes of evading any questions until we were alone, but it was impossible, his legs were just too damn long.

“What’s wrong?” he asked me.

“I’ll talk to you about it at the campsite.”

“Why can’t you talk to me now?”

“Because…” I said impatiently.

“Look, if this is about Sandra, it’s not what you think,” Brian said, reaching for my arm and turning me to face him.

“Oh really?” I asked, stopping in my tracks to look up at him. “Well, I just got quite an earful about her from Freddie, Mary, Veronica, Chrissy and April.”

“Fuck,” Brian muttered, turning his body away from me momentarily. He rubbed his hands across his eyes then turned to give me look of utter frustration as he said, “I knew they were going to do this! As soon as Freddie walked over and said that he and Mary wanted to talk to you I knew that they were going to fill your head full of shit! I can explain everything, I swear!”

“Good, I’m anxious to hear all about it back at the campsite,” I said, turning to stride purposefully away.

The two of us walked in silence all the way to our tent. I went inside long enough to put away my camera and book, and when I came back out I found Brian sitting in one of the folding chairs resting his head in his hands, his book and camera sitting on the ground at his feet.

“Okay, so let’s hear it,” I said, standing across the campfire from him with my arms folded defiantly across my chest. “Explain to me why I shouldn’t be upset.”

“I’m not really sure why you _are_ upset,” Brian said, looking up at me through thick, dark lashes, his elbows still resting on his knees. “I don’t know what the five of them told you, but I suspect that they accused me of cheating on Chrissy with Sandra, which, even if I was guilty of, it was Chrissy that I was with at the time, not you. It’s not as if I’ve done anything to you personally.”

“Brian, don’t you understand the implications that this has for me? I trust you more than anyone I’ve ever trusted in my life! Now I find out that you cheated on Chrissy! If you could do it to her, what would stop you from doing it to me?”

“First of all, I don’t know that I’d really call it _cheating_ on Chrissy,” Brian said in his defense. “And second, it’s a lot more complicated than Freddie or Mary probably told you.”

“Okay, so tell me what happened then,” I said.

“Before I even met Sandra, Chrissy and I were having problems. I know that doesn’t excuse my behavior, but when you suddenly start to realize that your girlfriend may not care about you as much as you thought, despite the fact that you’ve given three years of your life to her…” Brian paused, leaning back in his chair with a bitter expression as he ran a hand through his already disheveled hair. “And then suddenly you’ve got a pretty girl coming on to you and…”

“It’s hard to resist?” I suggested when Brian seemed to find it difficult to find the right words. “Well, that’s comforting.”

“Look, it wasn’t like that,” Brian pleaded, shaking his head exasperatedly. “We came down here to do some shows that Roger had booked for us, and I honestly wanted Chrissy to come with me, but she decided that she couldn’t. Her parents were really coming down hard on her about our relationship because they hated me. They thought that I was this longhaired, guitar-playing loser, and wanted to see her end up with… I don’t know, some clean-cut Catholic boy instead of someone like me I suppose. We’d been arguing about it a lot, and neither of us was very happy. I couldn’t understand why, if she loved me as much as she said that she did, that she just couldn’t tell her parents to go to hell!” 

Brian paused again, looking down at his feet as he scuffed the toe of one of his sneakers against the hard dirt surrounding the stone campfire pit. He took a deep breath, then returned his gaze back to me as he said in a quieter voice, “Then, suddenly, I’ve got this girl showing up at all of our shows flirting with me, making me feel desired, and even though I told her that I had a girlfriend back in London, she kept pursuing me. The night that Mary saw us together, all we were doing was kissing, I swear. Nothing more ever happened between us.”

“Well that makes me feel much better!” I exclaimed, throwing my hands up in the air. “Basically what you’re telling me is that if there’s ever a time when you and I are having problems, and I’m not with you to watch your every move, that you just might end up in the arms of another woman!”

“That’s not what I mean!” Brian shot back, as he stood up and began pacing in front of the tents.

Roger suddenly came sauntering into the campsite whistling a tune that I didn’t recognize, and when he heard our raised voices and saw the looks on our faces, he paused, regarding us with wide-eyed trepidation.

“Everything okay?” he asked cautiously.

“Everything’s fine,” Brian and I both said quickly.

“Okay, well, I’m just here for a clean towel. Rachel’s got dirty,” Roger explained.

“Oh, well then, by all means! You wouldn’t want to keep _Rachel_ waiting!” I snapped. “I assume she’s the brunette with the big boobs?”

Roger just looked at Brian as if to say, “What did I do?” Brian replied by shaking his head, which roughly translated to, “Trust me, you don’t want get involved.”

“I’m just going to get that towel now…” Roger said slowly. He popped into his tent briefly, came back out with the towel he was after, gave us one last look and said, “I’ll see you two later.”

“What was all that about?” Brian demanded of me once Roger was well out of earshot.

“What was all _what_ about?” I asked.

“What you just said to Roger,” Brian replied. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were jealous of that girl he’s been flirting with!”

“I am _not_ jealous,” I fumed, my hands planted firmly on my hips. At least, I kept trying to tell myself that I wasn’t jealous. “It just amazes me how easily you men let these conniving, manipulative, _scheming_ women wrap you around their little fingers!”

“Hey, don’t put me in the same category as Roger!” Brian exclaimed. “You know I’m not like that!”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t think you were until today,” I said caustically. 

I paused over the hurt look that Brian gave me, and took a deep, steadying breath, knowing that if I didn’t tread lightly that I was going to end up saying things that I didn’t really mean. I calmed myself down to the point where I could speak rationally once again, and decided that I needed to ask about the one thing that had really been troubling me. 

“Chrissy also told me about some letters that she’d found that Sandra had sent you,” I said, looking at Brian imploringly. “What was all that about?”

“She wrote to me, I never wrote back to her,” Brian said vehemently. “I wasn’t having an ongoing relationship with Sandra.”

“Then why did you keep the letters?” I asked. “Why not throw them away?”

“I…I don’t know…” Brian answered. He shuffled his feet nervously, took a deep breath and continued on, “I don’t know why I kept them. I guess, maybe, somewhere deep down, through all the crap I was going through with Chrissy, it felt good to actually have letters from someone who thought I was… special somehow. God knows I wasn’t getting an awful lot of comfort from Chrissy at the time. But it was stupid to keep them. I know that, okay?”

“Well, considering the fact that you and Chrissy broke up not long after she found the letters, I’d say it was incredibly stupid,” I criticized.

“Did she tell you that that was why we broke up?” Brian demanded.

“She said it was a major contributing factor,” I replied.

“My, how quickly she forgets,” Brian said cuttingly, his lips pressing into a thin line as he shook his head disbelievingly. “Like I said, we were under a lot of pressure from her parents. That was the real reason that we broke up. And she refused to believe that I wasn’t cheating on her. Even after the whole Sandra incident, she kept accusing me of being with other women, when I wasn’t. I finally couldn’t take the stress anymore and broke things off with her. It took me ages to get over it. In fact, the first night that I saw you at Freddie’s, that’s why I was in such a bad mood. I had just seen Chrissy at Kensington Market earlier that day with some fella from her parents’ church that they wanted her to go out with, and I just lost it. Four years we’d spent together, and in a matter of only about three or four weeks, she seemed to have already gotten over me.”

I stood gazing across the campsite at Brian, and I could feel my heart breaking over the sad and pained look in his eyes. I knew that he’d been hurt by the break up with Chrissy, but until that moment, I didn’t know how badly he’d been hurt. I found a deep seeded anger welling up inside of me not only toward Chrissy for being the cause of Brian’s pain, but at her idiotic, meddling parents as well for thinking him so unworthy of their perfect little daughter. How could anyone in their right mind _ever_ think of Brian as being anything other than the smart, talented, caring person that I knew him to be? It was unfathomable! How dare they make him think less of himself in any way? I had half a mind to find Chrissy’s parents and knock their heads together for causing the man that I loved even a moment’s worth of pain! Then again, I supposed in some convoluted way, I should have been thankful for them and their meddling ways. If they had genuinely liked Brian, he might have already been married to Chrissy. I shuddered at the very thought.

As far as Sandra was concerned, I knew that what Brian was telling me was the truth. If the extent of what he had shared with Sandra was just a couple of kisses, and she had been the one pursuing him, then he really wasn’t guilty of much. It was easy to see how the whole thing could have gotten blown out of proportion, especially with the letters she’d sent him. In fact, once I stopped and really thought about the whole thing, the letters in particular, I found myself wondering what kind of crazed lunatic woman would keep writing to someone after constantly getting no reply? I was starting to worry that it was more than just Sandra’s romantic intentions that I needed to worry about. The woman could have been a full-blown stalker for all I knew! And knowing Brian, he would have been too nice to tell her to stay the hell away from him.

I looked sheepishly at the ground, feeling genuinely bad about ever doubting Brian in the first place. I looked back up at him tentatively, and quietly asked, “And then I suppose that’s when I came into the picture, huh?”

“Yes, and then you came into the picture, and you completely changed my life,” Brian said quietly, the pain and anguish slowly leaving his eyes. “I took one look at you and my heart just stopped. I wanted to die when I realized how much Roger liked you, because I knew from that very first night that we met that you were meant to be with me. I didn’t know what love was until I met you. Do you honestly think that I’d ever do anything to screw up what we’ve got?”

I silently gazed at Brian, willing tears not to form in my eyes.

“Brian,” I began softly after a moment’s contemplation, “I love you more than life itself. But you know how sensitive I am after everything that happened with Roger. I never felt like I could trust him, and it killed me. I can’t go through that again with you.”

“Look at me,” Brian said, closing the distance between us and tilting my chin up to face him. “You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. And I promise you, I will never let anyone come between us.”

“I’m going to hold you to that promise,” I said, as the tears that I’d been trying so desperately to hold back, slid unbidden down my cheeks. “And I’m telling you now, if I see that girl coming on to you again, you know how I get…”

“Please don’t get into another fight,” Brian pleaded. “Even if she does come on to me, nothing is going to happen.”

“Then you’d better make sure that you tell her, or any other girl that comes on to you for that matter, that you are officially off the market and they better look elsewhere, otherwise all bets are off,” I said.

“Fine,” Brian sighed, wrapping me up in his arms, his head resting gently on top of mine. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Sandra sooner. I genuinely thought that she was just someone from my past that I’d never see again.”

I wrapped my arms around his waist and listened to the familiar sound of his heart beating as I pressed my ear against his chest.

“I love you so much,” I said. “I’m sorry I got so angry with you.”

Brian pulled back a little and looked down at me as he said, “Do you realize that this was our first argument?”

“I wish it could be our last,” I said softly, as Brian wiped a stray tear from my face.

“I do too,” Brian agreed, “but really, this is a pretty big deal, you know. We survived our first major argument.”

He seemed so genuinely proud of the fact that we hadn’t strangled each other that I couldn't help but laugh.

We went back to the beach then and spent the next couple of hours playing around in the water or lying in the sand, and I was happy to see that Sandra was no longer anywhere to be found. Roger was still having a good time with his buxom brunette, I noticed, but I told myself that I didn’t really care. I had the greatest guy in the world, and I wasn’t going to let some idiotic unresolved feelings for Roger ruin what Brian and I had. 

Eventually, we all realized that we were starving after hours of swimming and horsing around, and went back to the campground to see what there was to eat. The general consensus was that burgers sounded good, but we needed a few things from the store in order to make them. Since Roger was otherwise occupied with his new muse, Rachel, whom he had brought back to the campsite with him, I asked Doug if he wouldn’t mind going to the store since he also knew the area well. He was truly a sweet guy, and was more than obliging. I made him a list, which included some vegetarian options for Brian, and he was off and running.

Soon we were all sitting around the campfire enjoying our burgers, beans and chips, except for Brian, whom I had made a couple of grilled cheese sandwiches for instead. Doug had also picked up some cold beer at the store as well, and I had to admit, it tasted pretty good after a long day out in the sun and surf. 

After dinner the guys got out the various instruments they’d brought along with them, and we finally had our campfire sing-a-long, with Brian, John Deacon and Rik strumming guitars, Roger banging on his snare drum like a bongo, and me being wrangled into playing tambourine. We started out with _Love Me Do_ by The Beatles, since I mentioned that I knew the tambourine beat to it, then moved into _Help Me Rhonda_ by the Beach Boys, _You’re So Square_ by Elvis, and a very silly rendition of _Purple Haze_ by Jimi Hendrix before Brian decided to serenade me with his version of _Carrie Anne_ by The Hollies, which he had changed to Carrie Lynn instead.

After a while everyone started chatting and one by one all the instruments were set aside, all except for Brian’s guitar, which Brian continued to quietly fiddle around with while everyone else socialized. I’d gotten out a tablet and pen and was sitting in my folding chair absentmindedly doodling, when Freddie pulled his chair over between Brian and me to see what we were up to.

“Is everything okay between the two of you?” Freddie asked. “Roger said you were having a row when he came back to the campsite earlier.”

“It was more of a misunderstanding than a row,” Brian explained while gently plucking at the strings of his guitar. “And you certainly didn’t help, you know, filling Carrie’s head with misinformation.”

“Listen, I don’t trust that girl Sandra,” Freddie said decidedly. “I thought it was only fair that we told Carrie what we knew.”

“Yeah, except that you didn’t know the whole story,” Brian railed.

“Well, anyway, I’m sure Carrie will take care of her if she tries anything with you again,” Freddie grinned.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of,” Brian laughed, giving me a sidelong glance.

“Lord, I’m so bored!” Freddie exclaimed, stretching his arms above his head. “There’s nothing to do when you’re camping!”

“Here, I’ll show you a game that my girlfriends and I used to play when we got bored,” I said, flipping to a new page in my tablet.

I was talking about a game called “MASH”, which had been the answer to boredom for American girls for God only knew how long. I drew a square, and put four long jutting lines on either side of it, five short lines at the base of it, and the letters M A S H along the top of the square in capitals.

“Okay, give me four names of girls you know,” I instructed.

Freddie looked at me quizzically, but eventually said, “Let’s see, Mary, obviously. You. Veronica, and Mags.”

“Okay,” I said, filling in the lines to the right of the square. “Now give me four numbers, and you might want to keep them small.”

By this point Brian was becoming curious about what I was doing, and stopped playing guitar long enough to watch.

“Uh, 5, 4, 3, 2,” Freddie said in quick succession.

“All right,” I said, filling in all the blanks underneath the square. “Now I need four of your favorite cars.”

“Cars? Why cars? I don’t drive,” Freddie argued.

“Just humor me,” I said.

“Oh, fine. Let’s see. Rolls Royce, Jaguar, Bentley and Mercedes,” Freddie replied.

I filled in every line to the left of the square as each name rolled off of his tongue.

“Okay, now I’m going to make a swirl inside of the square, and you need to tell me when to stop,” I said.

I started drawing a continuous line, and after only a couple of times around, Freddie told me to stop.

“Okay, so that gives us four lines…” I started to say.

“Four lines? Where are you getting four lines from?” Freddie asked.

“It’s like counting the rings on a tree,” I answered. “See, you start at the top where the swirl begins, and you count across all the rings, or lines. Then, since there are four in this case, you count around all the things in each category of the game going in a clockwise motion, starting with the “M” in MASH, and eliminate every fourth thing until you see what you have left.”

I did just that, and what was left was the “A” in MASH, Veronica, the number “4” and the Mercedes.

“Oh, poor Veronica,” I giggled.

“Why? What does all this mean?” Freddie asked.

“Okay,” I began. “MASH stands for mansion, apartment, shack and house. The object of the game is to determine who you’re going to marry, how many kids you’re going to have, what kind of car you’re going to drive and what kind of place you’ll live in. According to this, you’re going to marry Veronica, you’re going to have four kids, you’ll drive a Mercedes, or I guess Veronica will, and the two of you will live in an apartment, or flat if you prefer.”

“Well that’s just silly,” Freddie scoffed. “I mean I would never live in an apartment with four kids.”

He physically shuddered at the very thought.

Brian laughed and asked, “So this is something American girls do in their spare time?”

“Yes, it’s silly I know, but it provided my friend Jennifer and me with many laughs over the years when we’d have sleep overs, or when we’d just get bored in class from time to time,” I said.

“Here, let me do one for you dear,” Freddie said to me, instantly reaching for my tablet and pen.

He drew another game just like the one I’d drawn for him, and for the four guys, I of course picked the members of Queen. My numbers were 2, 3, 5 and 6, and my four cars were a Camaro, a Mustang, a Corvette, and in honor of Brian, a Mini. The swirl produced nine lines, and Freddie started eliminating things one by one.

“Good Lord! You and Brian are going to be busy!” Freddie exclaimed.

“Why? How did it turn out?” Brian asked, suddenly curious after hearing his name mentioned. I had to admit, I was anxious to hear the results myself, even if it was just a silly game.

“Well, according to this,” Freddie began, “you two will be married, you’ll live in a house, drive a Corvette and have five kids. I swear to God, I think it’s a prediction!”

I burst out laughing and said, “Well if it is, Brian and I are going to have a hell of a time squeezing ourselves and five kids into a two-seat Corvette!”

“Oh that will be just one of your cars, darling!” Freddie said with a dismissive wave. “You know that we’re going to be rich and famous someday, so you’ll have a bus or something in addition to the Corvette to haul all your mini Carries and Brians around in.”

“Hmm,” I said, looking at Brian, who was giving me a big smile. I raised my eyebrows at him and said, “Five kids, huh?”

“Maybe we should get started now,” Brian said, strumming a couple notes on his guitar as he raised his eyebrows right back at me.

“You know, I can see a lot of potential with this game,” Freddie said after a bit of thought. “What if we were to change the places to live into types of sex, the marriage partners into sex partners, the numbers of children into the number of times the sexual act is performed, and the cars into places where the sex act happens.”

“Ugh! So much for an innocent children’s game!” Brian exclaimed as he shook his head.

Freddie’s creative juices were already flowing though, and there was no stopping him now that the thought had popped into his head.

“Look, instead of MASH, it becomes DICK,” Freddie announced.

“DICK? Do I even want to know what that stands for?” I asked.

Brian had stopped playing again to listen in.

“Of course you do darling,” Freddie laughed. “D is for dick-sucking, I is for intercourse, C is for cunnilingus and K is for kissing.”

“Oh my fucking God…” I breathed.

“Here, lets try one,” Freddie laughed. He drew the square and all of it’s components just like before, only instead of the letters MASH at the top, it now read DICK. He told me to pick four guys, four numbers and four places. 

“Can I pick Brian for all the guys?” I asked.

“Of course not, there’s no fun in that,” Freddie scowled.

“Fine, put down the same four names as last time,” I sighed.

“Four numbers please,” Freddie prompted.

“2, 4, 6 and 8,” I answered.

“Ooh, eight, darling, really?” Freddie grinned. He elbowed Brian and said, “Aren’t you a lucky man.”

He wrote down all the numbers while Brian watched in fascination.

“All right, now for the places,” Freddie said.

“Good Lord,” I said, shaking my head. I was starting to turn a little pink around the ears by this point. “Um, my bed, my couch, Brian’s couch, and…”

“Oh, come up with something more exciting for the last one,” Freddie admonished.

“Fine,” I said. “In an open field in Hampshire.”

“An open field in Hampshire?” Freddie questioned. Then he looked up to see the sly glances that Brian and I were giving each other. Freddie gasped and said, “You two? When you were in Hampshire? Did you really do it in an open field?”

“I’m not telling,” I said teasingly. “Just put it down.”

Freddie did without hesitation. We did the swirl once more, this time with a result of ten lines, and Freddie started marking things off one by one. Somehow I ended up going down on John eight times on Brian’s couch. Freddie was in a fit of hysterics and immediately had to walk around the campfire to show John the results and explain the entire game to him.

“You and John on _my_ couch?” Brian asked, trying to sound outraged.

“Well, I think we can definitely conclude that the results of these games are most definitely _not_ predictions!” I laughed.

I looked over to see Deaky waggling his eyebrows at me from across the campfire, and wanted to melt into the dirt beneath my feet.

Freddie continued to play his new “sex game” with anyone who was willing, Brian was strumming his guitar once more, and Roger… was gone? I looked around the campsite and couldn’t see him or the girl Rachel anywhere.

“Did Roger go inside his tent?” I asked Brian.

“No, I saw him and that girl… what was her name?”

“Rachel.”

“Yeah, Rachel, take off a little while ago while you and Freddie were playing that game,” Brian said.

“Hmm, I wonder where they went?” I mused.

“Probably back to the beach to go skinny dipping or something,” Brian replied casually.

“Really? You think so?” I asked, as a plan started to form in my head.

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Brian shrugged. He looked at the mischievous grin on my face and asked, “Why?”

“Wanna see if we can play a trick on them? Get Roger back for all the crap he’s been doing to us?” I asked eagerly.

“Such as?” Brian smiled.

“Come on…” I said, bolting out of my seat with excitement.

The two of us snuck off to the beach, peeking around some trees and rocks, until finally we saw Roger and Rachel. Brian had been right, they were in the ocean, and a pile of clothes was lying on the sand about ten yards or so from where they were swimming.

“What are we doing?” Brian whispered as he looked over my shoulder.

“We’re going to take their clothes,” I answered. “The question becomes, how do we take them without getting caught?”

“Come on, let’s go over here,” Brian said, taking me by the hand and leading me to a dark secluded area behind another pile of rocks where we could see the two of them but they couldn’t see us. We were closer in now, only about ten yards in the opposite direction from the pile of clothes. We watched and waited, and when it was obvious that Roger and Rachel were more engrossed in each other than their surroundings, we made our move.

“Now!” Brian breathed, and we tried to make as little noise as humanly possible as we dashed out from behind the rocks, ran across the beach, and snatched up all the clothes as quickly as we could. The problem was that neither of us was terribly graceful, and we kept dropping things as we tried to stuff them under our arms. It was clear that we weren’t cut out for the cat burglar business! We both started laughing as I dropped Roger’s undies and one of his shoes, and the next thing we knew, we heard shouting coming from the water.

“Hey! What are you two doing?!” Roger yelled.

Brian quickly reached down and picked up both items that I’d dropped, waved Roger’s underwear in the air and shouted, “Have fun getting back to the campsite, Rog!”

“Brian, don’t you dare! Don’t you fucking dare!” Roger screamed as he started to wade through the water toward the beach.

I was laughing uncontrollably by this point, but Roger was inching ever closer, so Brian and I took our stolen treasure and ran up the beach, scrambling over the small cliffs and rocks before Roger could catch us. I looked back momentarily and saw the panicked look on Roger’s face as he ran his hands through his hair and went back out into the sea, splashing angrily at the water with his hands.

Brian and I strode back into camp and dumped our loot onto the nearest chair. Everyone turned to see what we had, and when we explained what we’d done, everybody instantly jumped up to run to the beach and see the naked swimmers for themselves.

“Freddie, wait!” Brian called out just as Freddie started to head out of the campsite with the others. Brian grabbed a couple of beach towels that someone left hanging over one of the folding chairs, tossed them to Freddie, and said, “Here, give them these to walk back to camp in.”

Freddie took the towels and ran off, not wanting to miss a second of the action.

“You’re too nice, you know that?” I smiled as I wrapped my arms around Brian’s waist and looked up at him.

“Yes, so I’ve been told,” Brian sighed. “You know Roger’s going to want revenge for this.”

“I know,” I said. “Which means that we’ve got to start coming up with ideas to get him back after he gets us back.”

“I can think of a few other things I’d rather do at the moment,” Brian grinned. “After all, if we’re going to have five kids someday, I think we’d better start practicing how to make them now.”

“Hmm, you may be right. They do say that practice makes perfect,” I laughed, and without waiting for the others to come back, we went inside our tent and snuggled deep inside of our sleeping bag.


	45. Chapter 45

The next few days at camp were spent much the same way as our third day had been. Someone got up every morning to make breakfast, we spent most of our afternoons at the beach, went back to the campsite in the evening to make dinner, and then spent the remainder of the evening chatting, singing or playing games around the campfire. There were a few exceptions to our daily routine, of course. We discovered, for instance, that Mike and Janet possessed a volleyball net for the field near the children’s play area, and we occasionally made use of that, with everyone dividing into two teams. The losers were generally forced into making a beer run in order to buy the booze for around the campfire later that night. And Brian and I had been spending even more time together since our disagreement, if that was possible, and would occasionally go for a romantic stroll exploring the Cornish countryside, or we’d get out his telescope to watch the ships during the day or star gaze at night. Sometimes while everyone else sat around the campfire in the evening getting drunk and acting silly, the two of us would be perfectly content to snuggle up together and quietly read our books, needing only the warmth and comfort of each other’s bodies to make us happy.

After several days spent doing pretty much the same things over and over, however, it was inevitable that we should all find ourselves starting to get a little bored with the whole camping experience. When Roger’s birthday finally rolled around, though, it seemed to breathe new life into everyone and gave all of us something to focus our attention on. It had been decided that we would go to the Watering Hole once again, just like we’d done for Brian’s birthday, and everyone was looking forward to the change of scene.

We had been forewarned by Mike and Janet that Roger’s mom and sister were planning on bringing a birthday cake and some presents to the campsite for Roger’s special day, so we all pitched in and cleaned the place up, knowing how fussy Roger’s mother was. I realized too that after several days of wear, Brian’s clothes and mine were starting to become a little unpleasant to smell, so I decided to make use of the washers and driers that were housed in the same brick building where the showers were located.

Brian was busy cleaning up the kitchen area after breakfast when I rounded up all of our clothes, making several trips with them to the laundry room. I damn near tripped every time I walked through the doorway over a fairly large rock on the floor that was holding the laundry room door open. I was thankful that I didn’t have to worry about trying to turn a doorknob with an armful of clothes every time that I entered the building, but really, I thought that something other than a rock might have been a better choice.

I was standing at a long countertop just across from the row of washers, sorting the clothes into piles, when I suddenly heard Freddie and Roger’s voices from somewhere behind me. I turned, thinking that they were both in the room with me since I could hear them so distinctly, but it was clear that I was alone. I paused, listening carefully, and came to the conclusion that they were in the shower area just on the other side of the laundry room wall. There were rows of windows high up by the ceiling on two of the walls in the laundry room - one row running along the top of the wall where the laundry room door was located, and the other row on the wall where the washers were lined up – the latter row opening directly into the shower area. The windows were open slightly for ventilation purposes, and it was through those particular windows that I could hear Roger and Freddie’s voices floating into the laundry area.

“So, are you still going to go through with your plan tonight?” I heard Freddie ask Roger.

“Nah, I don’t think so,” Roger replied casually. “It’s obvious that she and Brian are going to stay together and that they’re happy.”

She and Brian? Were they talking about me? I wondered.

“Yes, but the two of you were happy too,” Freddie said. “You know that I’ve always thought that the two of you belong together.”

It was at that point that I heard showers turning on. I could still hear their conversation, though, despite the added noise.

“Yeah, I know,” Roger replied. “But what can I do? If she’s happy with Brian then that’s it between us. It’s over.”

“I still think you should have fought harder to get her back,” Freddie admonished.

“Maybe,” Roger said. “What’s done is done though.”

“Do you still love her?” Freddie asked.

“I don’t know,” Roger answered.

“You do. I know you do,” Freddie said.

“I miss her, I know that,” Roger replied. “We used to joke around constantly about everything. Sometimes just over something stupid on the TV. I miss stuff like that. I even miss taking her to school and picking her up, and waking up on the weekends to the smell of breakfast being cooked. She always was a hell of a cook.”

“And the sex?” Freddie teased.

“We definitely had fun sex,” Roger laughed. “Yeah, of course I miss that.”

I stood before the washers leaning my elbows on one of the lids, my head tilted to one side as I listened intently. Could I possibly be hearing them right? Was Freddie still trying to persuade Roger to try and get me back? And even more astounding, was Roger admitting that he still had feelings for me and missed me? It was all too much to digest.

“I think you should go ahead with your plan tonight and just see what happens,” Freddie said. “After all, wasn’t that part of the reason why you planned this camping trip in the first place, to see if there was still a spark between you and Carrie? I mean, I even invited Chrissy along as a distraction to help you out, for God’s sake!”

“Yeah, only it hasn’t worked,” Roger replied. “Brian never leaves Carrie’s side. Did you see how happy the two of them looked last night, lying by the campfire, reading their stupid books to each other?”

“Well, they are the ducks, darling,” Freddie reminded him. “It’s only natural that the two of them should behave in their odd-duck ways while the rest of us are having fun.”

“That’s just my point,” Roger went on. “I used to think that Carrie and I had a lot in common, that she was the right girl for me, but the more that I see her with Brian, I just don’t know. Besides, if I tried to get her back now, there’s no way that Brian would let her go without a fight. In fact, he’d probably try to kill me.”

“Look, this is your last chance, you know,” Freddie said. “They’re planning on moving in together when we get back to London. And you heard what Mary said the other day about everyone laying odds on how soon he’s going to ask her to marry him.”

“I don’t know,” Roger said yet again. “No matter how I still feel about her, I think she’s better off with Brian. I mean, if he’s seriously thinking of asking her to marry him, who am I to stand in the way of that? That’s what she wants, and I can’t give her that right now.”

The showers turned off, and I breathed a sigh of relief thinking that Roger was coming to his senses and that everything would be fine, when he suddenly said as an afterthought, “I guess I’ll just have to see how drunk I get tonight. Who knows, maybe I’ll go through with it after all.”

My brows snapped down over my eyes and my hands flew to my hips as I shook my head in utter disbelief. What on earth was he planning on doing? And furthermore, what made him think for one second that I might even consider taking him back, or that I still had feelings for him anymore? Had this whole camping trip _really_ been some sort of a bizarre set up for Roger to try and get me back? 

I could still hear Freddie’s words ringing in my ears – _“I mean, I even invited Chrissy along as a distraction to help you out, for God’s sake!”_ he’d said. How dare the two of them conspire to invite Brian’s ex along, knowing that it would upset me! But then, that was the whole point, wasn’t it? If Chrissy’s presence managed to cause friction of any kind between Brian and me, then inviting her along would have done the trick. And after everything that happened with the whole Sandra incident, it very nearly worked too. 

Despite my anger with Roger for meddling in my love life, I still found it incredibly hard to believe that he might possibly still have feelings for me after so much time had passed. I suddenly found myself questioning every interaction that I’d had with Roger since we’d broken up. I thought back to the afternoon that we all met up at Imperial College to try out the new instruments that the band had gotten, the very afternoon that I’d met Chrissy for the first time. Roger knew that I was upset and chased me down to the small café where I sat eating my soup after the argument that I’d had with Mary. At the time I saw it as nothing more than an act of friendship, now I wasn’t so sure. Then, there was also the strange interaction with his mom and sister just a few days before. They both seemed to be genuinely happy to finally meet me, and Roger’s mother had said in no uncertain terms that Roger had been talking about me incessantly the entire time he had visited them just after we’d broken up. None of it made any sense.

It was with great difficulty that I went back to sorting the laundry, my mind now in a complete fog. I wasn’t sure whether I should be furious with Roger for concocting the entire camping scheme in the first place, or if I should be flattered that he had gone to so much trouble just to see if there was still a chance for us. I had come to think of Roger as nothing more than a good friend really, almost like an irritating brother in fact, and if he still longed for something more between us, then I wasn’t quite sure how that made me feel.

I was just putting my last load of laundry into the washer, when who came waltzing into the laundry room but Roger himself, freshly dressed in a pair of denim shorts and a t-shirt after his shower, his long blonde hair looking damp and a little disheveled.

“Oh, there you are,” he said brightly. “I didn’t see you at the campsite.”

“I’m just doing laundry,” I said, finding it difficult to look him in the eye.

“I need to wash some clothes too,” Roger said, walking up next to me to examine the machine I was just starting up. “If I ran back to the campsite to get my clothes, do you think you could show me how to use the machines?”

“Um, yeah, that’s fine,” I said distractedly. Roger flashed a big grin at me, and I watched as he ran back out through the laundry room door in the direction of the campground.

I realized belatedly that helping Roger do his laundry might not be the best of ideas after everything I’d just discovered by eavesdropping on Freddie and Roger’s conversation, but it was too late. I’d agreed to show him how to use the machines, and I couldn’t just leave without following through. I decided that I would quickly show him how to use the washers then get back to the campground as fast as possible so that I could have some time to think. What I really wanted was to be able to talk to somebody about the whole situation, but Annie was in the north of England with her family, and there was absolutely no way that I could say anything to anybody that was camping with us, especially Brian.

I was leaning my back against one of the washers, chewing absentmindedly on a fingernail and still trying to make sense of Roger and Freddie’s conversation, when I heard footsteps running up to the laundry room door. Roger came flying inside, tripped over the rock sitting in front of the door, sending it sliding across the floor, as the door slammed shut with a loud snap. 

“Oops,” he laughed as he set his clothes on the counter near the door. He reached down to grab the rock off of the floor then went to turn the handle of the door, only to find that it wouldn’t turn. I watched as he continued to yank and pull on the doorknob, fruitlessly trying to pry the door back open, and a thought occurred to me. What if the rock hadn’t been put there just to keep the door from closing, but also to keep it from locking people inside?

“Oh God, Roger, what did you do?” I cried, running over to the door to try the knob myself, only to find that my worst fears were confirmed. We were definitely locked inside.

“Shit,” Roger mumbled, trying the knob one last time. “Why the hell would the door lock on us?”

“I don’t know, but what are we going to do?” I asked in a panicked voice, raking my hands through my hair. “Does anybody even know we’re in here?”

“Freddie saw me get my laundry,” Roger replied. “But it’s probably going to be a while before anyone puts two and two together.”

“Oh God! We could be in here all day!” I cried. I was trying not to have a full-blown panic attack, but I didn’t like feeling claustrophobic, and the room had already been warm even with the door open. I could only imagine how hot and stuffy it could potentially get with the door closed.

“Look, don’t panic,” Roger soothed, reaching out to gently touch my arm. “Somebody will figure out where we are eventually.”

Roger’s reassuring words did little to calm my nerves, and I looked quickly around the room trying to discover a way that we could get out, when I thought about the windows. They were high up by the ceiling and impossible to reach from the ground, but underneath the row that ran along the wall beside the door there happened to be a long countertop that extended from the door to the corner of the room, and underneath the row that opened into the shower area were several washing machines. I wondered if it would be possible for either Roger or me to climb onto something and yell out of one of the windows for help. Without a second’s hesitation I made for the countertop and started to climb up.

“What are you doing?” Roger asked. “That doesn’t look very sturdy. You’re going to break your neck!”

“I don’t care,” I panted. “I’m going to see if I can reach the windows.”

“What for?” Roger argued. “Even if we could get to them, we wouldn’t be able to climb out. The drop is too far on the other side.”

“Well, I have to do something,” I replied.

I stretched up to my full height and felt Roger pressing a hand to my back, trying to keep me from falling backwards as I reached up and grabbed for the window. I was hoping that I might be able to pull it open a bit more, but it was no use, I was just too short.

“Here, get down and let me try,” Roger insisted. He grabbed me around the waist to pull me off the counter and I lost my balance a little. Thankfully Roger caught me before I ended up knocking both of us over. I reached for his shoulders and latched onto him with a death grip as he held me securely in his arms. Those big blue eyes and those soft pouty lips of his were just inches from mine as we looked at each other intensely for a moment. We smiled at one another awkwardly before he gently set me down. Then, with the reflexes of a cat, Roger hopped up onto the counter and reached the window with ease. He pulled it down toward him, and stood on his tippy toes trying to see outside.

“Well?” I asked.

“I don’t see anyone,” he said. “And I can’t reach the window well enough to try and climb out.”

“Well, try yelling,” I suggested. “Maybe someone will hear you.”

“Hey!” Roger shouted. “Can anyone hear me? HEY!!”

He waited a few seconds, got no response, and then tried again. It was no use. The campground was too far away, and nobody could hear him.

“What about the windows over the washers?” I asked, grasping at straws. “Do you think anyone is in the showers right now?”

“Those windows open into the showers?” Roger asked, pointing at the other wall with arched eyebrows as he hopped down from the countertop. I could see the wheels turning in his head as he realized how easy it would be to spy on us girls while we were showering just by standing on top of the washers. He climbed up on the nearest washer, one that wasn’t running, and peeked through one of the open windows. “Hey, Freddie and I were just right there.”

“Yes, I know,” I said, blushing a little as I thought back to their conversation.

Roger turned to look down at me and asked, “What do you mean you know?”

“I was in here sorting my laundry when you and Freddie went in to take your showers. You’d be amazed at how the sound echoes out of the shower stalls. I could hear everything you guys were saying,” I admitted.

“Everything?” Roger asked hesitantly.

“Everything,” I confirmed. “When you’re done calling out for help up there you’ll have to tell me all about this plan of yours to try and get me back tonight.”

Roger turned slightly red and cleared his throat before turning toward the window once again, shouting, “Hey! Is anyone in there?”

There was no response, which I figured there wouldn’t be, because if someone had been in the showers we would undoubtedly have heard them.

“Well, that’s it! We’re stuck in here!” I wailed.

“Why isn’t Brian with you to offer protection anyway?” Roger asked somewhat bitterly as he hopped down from the washer. “The two of you are rarely apart these days.”

“Because he was cleaning up the kitchen area for your mother’s visit today,” I replied with a slight edge to my voice. “And besides, I didn’t exactly think I’d need protection to do a few loads of laundry.”

“Aw shit…” Roger moaned, clapping his hand to his forehead. “What am I going to do if we’re not out of here by the time my mum arrives?”

“I think we have bigger problems to worry about,” I said. “Like what are we going to eat, what are we going to drink, and most importantly, where are we going to pee if we need to go?”

Roger looked around, and said, “There’s a sink in the corner. We could at least get water from that, and I suppose we could piss in it too if we had to.”

“Ugh, do you have to say piss? It sounds so vulgar,” I groaned, flopping myself down on the floor, leaning my back against one of the washers.

“Oh yeah, sorry _old lady,_ I forgot. You don’t like that word, do you?” Roger asked with a crooked grin as he sat down next to me. 

If there was one thing I hated even more than the word “piss” it was being called Roger’s “old lady” and he knew it. I just glared at him through narrowed eyes as he laughed at me.

“You’re an absolute pain in the ass, you know that?” I drawled.

“So you’ve said,” Roger replied. He looked down at his shorts and picked at an invisible piece of lint, as he asked, “So, um, what exactly did you hear Freddie and me saying while we were in the shower?”

“Well, I heard him ask you if you were still going through with your plans for tonight,” I answered. Then I looked down at the floor, unable to look directly at Roger as I quietly said, “And I heard him ask you if you were still in love with me.”

“Ah…” Roger said, sounding slightly embarrassed as he pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around his legs. “And did you hear what I told him?”

“I heard you say that you missed me a lot,” I answered. “And it sounded as if this camping trip was nothing more than a ploy for you to see if you could get me back again.”

“Is it working?” Roger teased, flashing me that big bright smile of his.

“Oh yes, the sight of you skinny-dipping with another girl definitely makes me want to take you back again,” I said sarcastically.

“Rachel’s just a friend,” Roger shrugged. “There’s really nothing going on between us.”

“Of course,” I laughed, “how silly of me! I forgot. I go skinny-dipping with my friends _all_ the time! Later today I’ve got an appointment with Freddie to do just that, and when I get back to London, I think I’ll invite Annie to go skinny-dipping with me next!”

“I’d actually like to see that,” Roger said with a salacious grin.

“That doesn’t surprise me somehow,” I replied.

“Look, you know what I mean,” Roger went on. “Maybe I like to flirt with other girls a bit… But I’ve never felt about any girl the way that I felt about you. And I honestly mean that. You just didn’t give me enough of a chance to prove it to you.”

I shook my head, completely dumbfounded by Roger’s sudden bout of sincerity. I searched my heart and soul, trying to find the right words to say to Roger in that moment, and found it unbelievably difficult.

“You know, I just don’t know where all of this is coming from quite frankly,” I said as I gave Roger a beseeching look. “You’ve done nothing but try to irritate the crap out of me since our break up. You say that this camping trip was meant to be an opportunity to see if there was still a spark between us, yet all you’ve done is play pranks on Brian and me since we got here!”

“Of course I have to play pranks on you and Brian,” Roger argued. “The two of you annoy the shit out of everyone! It’s sickening the way you’re both so lovey-dovey with each other all the time!”

“Well I’m sorry if our being in love distresses you so much!” I exclaimed.

“I just don’t get it,” Roger railed. “I’ve been beating myself up for months, trying to figure out exactly what is was that Brian had that I didn’t! Why did you choose him over me? We had something special you and I, and you loved me every bit as much as I loved you, I know you did!”

“Yes, I did, Roger, but I never felt like I could trust you. You just said it yourself, you’re a hopeless flirt, and I would have never been content feeling like I was just another girl to you.”

“You were never just another girl to me! Haven’t you been listening to what I’ve been saying to you since we started dating?” Roger asked in a hurt voice. “Why are you always so determined to think the worst of me? I know I’ve made mistakes, but it was different with you. I told you it was different with you the night at your flat after you got in the fight with Kim and I meant it. I still mean it now.”

“I don’t know what to say, Roger…”

Roger suddenly turned to face me and said, “Tell me that you don’t love me anymore.”

“What?” I asked, looking at Roger with a stunned expression.

“I’m serious,” he said. “Look me in the eyes right now, and tell me that you don’t love me anymore.”

I was rendered speechless as I stared at Roger, my mind completely befuddled. Then, thankfully, before I had find the words to answer him, I heard my name being called from somewhere just outside the laundry room.

“Brian?” I gasped, jumping up from the floor. I ran over to the countertop and threw myself on top of it, stood up as quickly as I could without going over backwards, and yelled out, “Brian! BRIAN!!”

“Carrie! Where are you??” Brian called back in a panicked voice.

“I’m stuck in the laundry room!” I shouted. 

“In here?” Brian asked. I could tell that he was standing just below the window now.

“Yes!” I answered. “The door slammed shut and locked me in!”

“Oh my God… Hang on, I’ll be right back!” Brian called, and I could faintly hear the sound of feet running away from the building.

“Oh thank God!” I sighed. “We can finally get out of here.”

I slid down the wall to sit on the edge of the counter, sending out a silent prayer of thanks to God for sending Brian to my rescue. I watched as Roger slowly unfolded himself into a standing position once again, that old familiar crease forming between his brows that let me know in no uncertain terms how much something was bothering him.

“Hey, you never did do your laundry you know,” I told Roger, motioning toward his pile of clothes lying on the counter just feet from where I was sitting, as I tried to find something other than our unresolved feelings that we could talk about.

“Oh, yeah, I guess I’d better do that,” he said quietly, as he trudged slowly over to the counter, leaning his back against it a few feet from where I sat.

He looked so sad, that it was making my heart ache.

“Can I tell you something?” I asked.

“What?” he asked in return, gazing at me through heavily lidded eyes.

“I don’t know if this will make you feel better or worse, but I was really depressed after we went to your house the other day,” I said.

“Why?” Roger asked.

“Because… I don’t know. I guess I always felt that when I finally met your mom and your sister that you and I would be together as a couple,” I said. “Seeing your old room and all the pictures of you on the wall, that was something I’d always wanted to share with you as your girlfriend. I know it probably sounds stupid, but it just made me feel sad somehow.”

“It doesn’t sound stupid at all, because I was feeling the same way,” Roger said. “Why do you think my sister and my mum were calling you _the_ Carrie? They know how much I like you. I couldn’t stop talking about you the entire time I was at home the last time. Even though we’d broken up, I never thought for one second that I wouldn’t get you back again. I was talking about you to my mum like you were still my girlfriend, cause in my heart you were. I knew that somehow, at some point, I just had to convince you that we belonged together.”

“And yet you showed up with two girls at the Marquee Club the night we all saw Rory Gallagher together,” I said peevishly.

“That was just to make you jealous,” Roger said, grinning over the memory. “And if I remember correctly, I think it worked.”

He closed the distance between us to stand right in front of me, placing his body directly between my legs, which were dangling over the edge of the counter. He leaned his hands on the counter on either side of me, his face just inches from mine, as he asked, “Can I tell you something?”

“What?” I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper.

“I do still love you, and I still want you back. I was going to kidnap you at The Watering Hole tonight and take you someplace where we could be alone so that I could tell you all the things I just told you and beg you to take me back. That was the plan you heard Freddie asking me about.”

“And, how exactly were you going to kidnap me?” I asked Roger with a quirked brow.

“I was going to have Freddie distract Brian, and I was going to ask you to help me get something out of my car, and we would have gotten inside and taken off to a secret place that I know of where I would have kissed you, and told you how much I love you, and I wouldn’t have taken you back to the campsite until you agreed to be my girlfriend again,” Roger breathed, inching his face ever closer to mine.

“You’re crazy,” I whispered, swallowing hard.

“Am I?” Roger asked.

My insides turned to jelly as Roger’s lips brushed against mine in a feathery soft kiss. I smelled his cigarettes and shampoo and I could feel my willpower fading fast. He pulled back slightly and looked at me with those beautiful blue eyes of his and I felt like I was drowning. He put his hands on either side of my face and pulled me toward him for a fiery, passionate kiss. My willpower cracked, and my body reacted to his touch, as we tangled our fingers in each other’s hair, plunging our tongues deep into each other’s mouths.

Just then we heard the sound of movement coming from underneath the window outside, and instantly, we were both snapped back into reality.

“Damn it Roger,” I pulled away and whispered. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“Tell me that you don’t love me,” Roger whispered. “Tell me that you don’t love me, and I’ll never touch you again.”

“Roger, I…”

“Carrie!” Brian called out.

“Yes?” I called back, shoving Roger aside and hopping off of the counter.

I turned to look up at the window, and Brian’s beautiful dark, curly head popped up over the edge smiling down at me. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I answered, smiling back at him.

“Roger, what are you doing in there?” Brian scowled, looking at his friend.

“I’m afraid I’m the one that got us in this predicament,” Roger replied. “I came in with my laundry, accidently kicked the rock that was holding the door open, and before either of us could stop it, the door slammed shut and locked.”

“Mike and Janet told me that the lock on the door is broken, that’s why they had the rock there,” Brian assented. “Mike’s bringing a screwdriver to pry it open.”

“What are you standing on?” I asked. “I mean, I know you’re tall, but you’re not that tall.”

Brian laughed and said, “I borrowed a ladder from Mike. I wanted to make sure that you were okay and didn’t need anything.”

“I’m fine sweetheart, I’m just so glad you found us,” I smiled. “I was terrified that we were never going to get out of here.”

“Do you think I would have let you rot in here?” Brian teased. “I would have searched to the ends of the earth until I found you. Oh, here comes Mike, hang on…”

Brian disappeared below the window once more, and I immediately turned to Roger and whispered, “What just happened between us can never happen again.”

“Tell me you don’t love me and it won’t,” Roger whispered back.

_Just say it!!_ My brain screamed. _Why can’t you just say it??_

I looked down at the floor, took a deep breath, and said, “I don’t love you.”

“Look me in the eyes and say it,” Roger scowled.

Before I could reply, the door popped open, and Brian burst inside, closing the distance between us in half a second, throwing his arms around me in relief.

“Thank God you’re okay,” he said.

“Thank God I’ve always got you to rescue me,” I replied, holding on to him tight.


	46. Chapter 46

Brian had been so distressed over the incident in the laundry room that he wouldn’t leave my side for the rest of the afternoon. Mike decided that he’d better fix the faulty lock once and for all before someone got seriously hurt, and spent the next half hour or so tearing it apart with a bit of help from Brian while I finished up our laundry. Despite everything that had happened while Roger and I had been locked in the laundry room, I was determined to act as normally as possible, not letting on for one second that Roger and I had shared a stolen kiss.

Roger, it seemed, had other plans though, and was taking every opportunity he could find to whisper in my ear or make eyes at me while Brian was otherwise occupied.

“Stop it,” I hissed at him, as I folded one of Brian’s shirts.

“Tell me you don’t love me,” Roger whispered, giving me a cocky grin, as he leaned in to me, propping his elbows on the countertop.

“Fine, I don’t love you,” I said, folding a pair of shorts.

“You still can’t look me in the eyes,” Roger smiled.

“You know, just because it’s your birthday doesn’t mean that I won’t punch you,” I said a little too loudly, shaking a pair of my underpants at Roger absentmindedly.

He arched an eyebrow, and said, “Mm, I remember those…” before I quickly folded them and tucked them away underneath one of my t-shirts.

“Everything okay over there?” Brian asked from a crouched position beside the door where he was fiddling with the broken lock.

“Yes, everything’s fine,” I replied. “Roger’s just being a pain in the ass.”

Roger did his best to look deeply hurt, placing his hand over his heart as if to say, “Me? What did I do?”

“Roger, behave yourself,” Brian chided, picking up a screwdriver to pry a metal plate off of the door.

“Yes, Dad,” Roger said sarcastically, grinning at me all the while.

I just shook my head and rolled my eyes at him as the spin cycle on the washer holding Roger’s clothes came to a standstill. I was relieved to have something to do so that I could get away from Roger, even momentarily, and walked determinedly over to washing machine, lifted up the lid and hauled an armful his clothes across the room to one of the empty dryers.

“I can do that you know,” Roger said. “You don’t need to do my laundry for me.”

“It’s okay, I’ve got it,” I replied, going back for more of his clothes.

“Are you doing his laundry?” Brian asked me irritably as he unscrewed a screw.

“Yes, you know how helpless he is,” I replied.

“Helpless?” Roger railed. “Who do you think does my laundry for me?”

“I don’t know, your mom?” I teased. 

Brian snickered as he pulled out the offending screw.

Roger made a face at me as he marched over to the washer that held the rest of his clothes and pulled them out, hauling them over to the dryer himself. I, meanwhile, was more than happy to get back to folding my own clothes while Roger was otherwise occupied. His persistence, however, seemed to no bounds. As soon as he’d started up the dryer he was standing next to me again whispering, “So, what do you think about tonight?”

“Nothing is going to happen between you and I,” I whispered back vehemently. “So drop it.”

“Come on, it’s my birthday,” Roger coaxed.

“No,” I said firmly, folding the remainder of my clothes as quickly as possible. “And if you keep this up, I may tell Brian that I’m not feeling well and we won’t even go to The Watering Hole tonight.”

“You have to be there,” Roger simpered. “I can’t have a birthday party without you.”

“Then behave yourself,” I chastised.

“What do you think, Mike? I think I’ve got it all apart now,” Brian suddenly said from across the room. Mike, who had left for a bit to go fetch some parts, was now back at the laundry room door inspecting Brian’s work.

“You’re quite good at this sort of thing, Brian,” Mike replied. “If you ever need a job as a handyman, let me know.”

Brian smiled and stood up, dusting his hands off on his jeans. He wandered over to where Roger and I were standing, wrapped his arms around me from behind, and asked, “So how are you coming along? Almost finished?”

“Just a few more shirts to fold,” I said.

Brian turned and leaned his back against the countertop on the other side of me, folded his arms across his chest and asked Roger is a serious tone, “So, are we still going to the Watering Hole for your birthday tonight?”

“Of course,” Roger said without hesitation.

Brian nodded decisively and said, “Good. Should be fun. Although I think I’ll watch my alcohol intake a little more closely this time.”

I was sandwiched in between both men, and kept glancing at them out of the corners of my eyes. It was clear that there was tension in the air, and I couldn’t help but wonder if Brian was starting to get a little suspicious over Roger’s behavior since he found us locked in the laundry room together. If he sensed that there was anything going on between Roger and me, then he didn’t let on. I, meanwhile, was quietly battling with my own inner demons. Guilty feelings were bubbling up inside of me over the kiss with Roger, and I prayed to God that Brian never found out what happened. Roger may have initiated the kiss, but I certainly hadn’t done anything to stop him, and I hated myself for it. 

I decided then and there that once Roger’s birthday was done and over with, that I was going to have to sit down and tell him in no uncertain terms that we were over for good. I couldn’t allow any unresolved feelings to remain hanging over Roger’s head or mine any longer. Brian was going to be moving in with me soon, and I wanted nothing more than to get on with my life with the man that I loved.

I finished folding the clothes and Brian helped me carry them back to our tent while Roger waited for his to finish drying. Before long everyone’s laundry was done, and we all dressed in our finest ensembles for Roger’s visiting relatives.

The sixteen of us were all sitting around what was left of the campfire from earlier that morning, chatting with Janet as little Eric and Stephanie ran around the campsite playing, when we heard a car pull onto Mike and Janet’s property. I recognized it immediately as being the car that was sitting in the driveway at Roger’s house, and soon both his mom and sister were emerging from within. 

“I’d better go see if they need any help,” Roger said, dashing away toward the car.

“This is my doll Sindy,” Stephanie told me, as she suddenly appeared at the side of my chair holding up a blonde doll that was clearly a knock off of American Barbie dolls back home.

“Ooh, she’s very cool,” I said. “I have some dolls back home that look a bit like her, only they’re called Barbie dolls.”

“I have more in the house,” Stephanie said excitedly. “Do you want me to get them so that we can play?”

“Sure,” I said, trying to sound enthusiastic.

She was off in a flash as Roger came walking back into the campground holding a large basket of goodies, his mom and sister following right behind him with a large pink bakery box. Roger set the basket by his chair, and instructed his sister Clare to set the cake over in our little kitchen area.

“Mum, I think you know everyone here, don’t you?” Roger asked, motioning around at our ragtag group clustered around the campfire.

“Yes, I think so,” Winifred replied. She looked over at Janet and said, “Ah! There’s a familiar face. How are you, dear?”

“Very well, thank you,” Janet replied. “And you?”

“Oh, busy as ever,” Winifred said loftily.

Roger grabbed a couple of extra chairs for his mom and sister, and asked them to sit down. Stephanie, meanwhile, came running back into the campground with a basket full of dolls and accessories, and plopped it down at my feet, offering me her least favorite doll and a hairbrush to play with.

“So, what did you bring me, mum?” Roger asked, rubbing his hands together excitedly as he peered into the basket at his feet.

“Well, look inside and see, dear,” Winifred told him.

There appeared to be a little bit of everything from where I was sitting. Roger reached in and pulled out a bag full of his favorite Cornish pasties from a nearby bakery, along with piles of his favorite sweets, including Minstrels, Wine Gums and Pastilles, and Clare, it seemed had baked him a batch of his favorite shortbread cookies as well.

“Aw, mum, underpants and socks, really?” Roger asked holding up a package of each.

The guys in our camp snickered as Winifred haughtily said, “Well God only knows what condition yours are in these days.”

“Thanks mum,” Roger nodded, stuffing the embarrassing items back into the bottom of the basket. He then pulled out a flat wrapped present and said, “Ah-ha! What’s this?”

I suddenly remembered the present I had brought for Roger, and handed Stephanie back her Sindy doll momentarily while I dashed into my tent to find it. It was underneath a pile of clothes, but thankfully hadn’t been smashed or damaged. I popped back out of the tent just in time to see Roger unwrapping a book about Jimi Hendrix.

“Wow! This is brilliant, Mum, thanks!” Roger gushed. Freddie was already leaning over to get a closer look and asking to see it.

“Well, you can thank Clare. She’s the one who picked it out for you,” Winifred smiled.

“Oh, thanks for everything, Mum,” Roger said standing up to reach over and give his mom a quick peck on the cheek. “You too sis,” he told Clare as he ruffled her hair.

“I’ve got something for you too, Rog,” I said, holding out the small wrapped gift and card I’d gotten him.

Brian, I noticed, suddenly got very quiet and leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest, as he watched me reach across the campfire to hand Roger his present.

“Oh wow, you didn’t have to do that,” Roger said earnestly, reaching for the gift.

“Of course I did, it’s your birthday,” I shrugged as I sat back down. It did occur to me, however, that I seemed to be the only one out of all of his friends who had actually gotten him anything, which seemed to garner me a few curious looks from our fellow campers.

Roger read the card first, which said something funny about being careful not to party too hard on his birthday since he was an old man now, and he laughed and passed it around for everyone to see. He tore open the package, opened the tiny box, and looked genuinely shocked when he saw the necklace.

“Is this that antique silver dollar I used to play around with at your flat?” he asked me.

“The very one,” I replied. “I knew how much you liked it, so I took it to a jewelers and had them make a necklace out of it for you.”

“This is so cool. I don’t know what to say,” Roger breathed as he stared down at it.

I had never seen Roger at such a loss for words. I truly hadn’t expected such an emotional reaction from him.

“Well, I hope you like it,” I shrugged.

“Like it? I love it! Thank you so much!” Roger said, standing up to give me a hug and a quick kiss on the cheek.

“May I see it son?” Winifred asked with her hand outstretched. Roger handed it to her and she examined the coin front to back. “This is beautiful,” she declared at last. She looked to me and said, “I hope it wasn’t a terribly valuable coin.”

“Um, I’m not really sure,” I said truthfully. “It was just something that I’d had since I was a kid, and I don’t even know why I brought it with me to England really. But, I knew that Roger liked it, so, I thought I’d do something special with it instead of just letting it sit around and gather dust.”

“Roger, this is quite special,” Winifred said handing the necklace back to her son. “You make sure that you take good care of that.”

“I know, Mum, I know,” Roger said, flashing me a quick smile. 

Everyone else immediately asked to see it, and Roger passed it around, keeping a close eye on who had it and where it was at all times. I’d forgotten that Brian had never seen it, since I’d wrapped it as soon as I had it made, and when it made it’s way over to us, I handed it to him so that he could have a look.

“This coin really is beautiful,” Brian said quietly, turning it over in his hand. “Are these called anything in particular?”

“It’s an old liberty dollar,” I answered.

“Well, it’s seems your gift stole the show today,” Brian said to me with a halfhearted smile. He handed the necklace back to Roger, and said, “Should I be jealous that my girlfriend gave you something so thoughtful?”

Several of our friends seemed to freeze, looking at Brian to see if he was serious or not. Roger looked trepidatiously from Brian to me with his mouth open slightly, clearly not sure of what to say, as he took back the necklace.

“I’m only joking,” Brian said quietly with a shake of his head. “I know that you and Carrie are more like a brother and sister than anything these days.”

Roger raised an eyebrow at me, and I in turn let out a tremendous sigh of relief. It was strange to hear Brian refer to Roger and me as being like a “brother and sister” I had to admit. Even though it was something I sort of felt myself at times, I hadn’t been aware that Brian had picked up on a similar vibe. Of course, then I thought about the kiss that Roger and I had just shared in the laundry room, and decided that if we were in fact like a brother and sister, then things had just become decidedly incestuous.

After we all sat around chatting for a bit, I noticed Winifred motion Clare over to our kitchen area where she’d left Roger’s birthday cake. Clare dutifully got up and went to do whatever it was that her mother asked of her, but she seemed to look a little lost. Without hesitation, I got up and wandered over to the kitchen to ask if she needed any help.

“Oh, my mum just wanted me to get Roger’s cake ready, only I can’t remember where we put the candles,” Clare told me.

I opened the bakery box, and taped to the inside of the lid was a box of brightly colored birthday candles. 

“Is this them?” I asked with a smile.

“That’s right! I forgot they put them in the box!” Clare said, shaking her head over her absentmindedness.

I just laughed as I opened the box of candles and dumped them out onto the table. Clare and I took them one at a time and put each one on top of the cake until there was a full 23.

Doug strolled into the kitchen area to get something to drink, saw what we were doing, and asked, “Need a lighter?”

“That would be great,” I replied, as Doug reached into his pocket and procured a small disposable Bic. I lit two of the candles then Clare and I took one each and lit the rest. Soon the cake looked like a bonfire, as Clare marched it out into the campground.

“Okay everyone, time to sing!” I announced.

Roger covered his face briefly with his hands, acting like he was embarrassed by all the attention, even though he clearly loved every minute of it. We all sang _Happy Birthday_ as Clare held Roger’s cake in front of him, and it took him two big breaths to blow out all the candles. Everyone cheered and clapped him on the back as Clare and I took the cake away to be cut into pieces.

Once everyone had had their fill of cake, and the conversation started to die down, Winifred and Clare decided that it was time to go and gave Roger a quick hug and kiss before heading off once more to Truro. By that time it was starting to get late, and the rest of us realized that if we wanted to make it to The Watering Hole in order to see the band play, then we’d better get ready to go.

Just like with Brian’s birthday, Roger wasn’t allowed to pay for anything at the club that night. We had a nice dinner and a couple of drinks before heading outside to the patio area where we imbibed even more. Brian drank nothing but beer this time in order to keep his wits about him, although, he’d been so quiet all day, that I almost wished that he would have had a bit more to drink just to liven up a little. I could tell that something was bothering him, but I was afraid to ask what it was, so I just drank and tried to have fun, hoping that whatever was on his mind would eventually fade away. I’d had a couple of mixed drinks, and was already feeling a little tipsy when Roger handed me a shot that someone had given him. 

“What do you want me to do with this?” I asked.

“Drink it,” Roger shrugged.

I knew that I probably shouldn’t, but I did anyway, and soon things were starting to look a little fuzzy around the edges. And I wasn’t the only one who’d had one too many, I noticed. All of Roger’s friends were drinking far more at his party than they had at Brian’s. Even Deaky, I realized, had had his fair share of alcohol, and was starting to come out of his shell a little bit. By the time the band came on Brian was one of the few of us that was truly sober, and he was on his third beer.

The band called themselves Surf City, presumably after the Jan & Dean song, and played primarily dance tunes from the ‘60s. At first Roger was less than thrilled with having such a soundtrack for his birthday party, but soon he was reminiscing with everyone about how his band The Reaction had played similar songs back in the day.

We were all laughing and having a good time, with Brian and I mostly watching everyone else’s antics, as we leaned against the wooden railing in the far corner of the patio. I nudged Brian and couldn’t help giggling as Deaky started dancing around to Surf City’s version of Wilson Pickett’s _Land of A Thousand Dances._ Everyone else started following suit, trying to outdo each other with silly dances, and even I found myself getting into the groove a bit, swaying and clapping my hands to the beat of the music. Roger caught sight of me dancing, and sauntered over to me, reaching out for my hand.

“Mind if we dance, Bri?” Roger asked Brian, motioning from himself to me as he gently pulled me away from the railing.

“No, go ahead,” Brian said somewhat reluctantly, waving the two of us away.

Roger flashed me a big smile and dragged me out to the middle of the deck.

“Who says I wanted to dance?” I asked Roger. “And since when do you dance anyway?”

“It’s my birthday, I can do whatever I want!” Roger shrugged with a mischievous grin. Suddenly flashbacks of his little “plan” of kidnapping me came rushing to the forefront of my thoughts. I had promised myself that I wouldn’t leave Brian’s side that night, just in case Roger actually decided to try something, and yet here I was, dancing with Roger and the others while Brian stood alone in a corner. I felt bad as I glanced back at Brian, but then Roger lifted my hand in the air and spun me around, and as tipsy as I was, I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Are you going to dance?” John asked excitedly in my ear.

“Apparently so!” I smiled.

_Land of A Thousand Dances_ was still being played, and Roger, John and I cracked each other up as we attempted to do the old dances of the previous decade, including the pony, the frug and the monkey. Next up was _The Twist,_ and accordingly, we did the dance of the same name until we were about to drop. After that, the band played The Beach Boys’ _Good Vibrations,_ and we all started doing silly variations of the swim, with Freddie, Mary, Doug, Rik and the Cornwall girls all joining us. I wasn’t usually one for dancing, at least not in public, but I had to admit that I was having fun.

By the time Surf City got to _All Day and All of The Night_ by the Kinks, I noticed that Brian wasn’t standing in the corner near the railing anymore. I looked around the deck area, and saw him sitting over at the corner table where we had made out with each other just a week before, only now he wasn’t alone. He was with Chrissy. I immediately regretted leaving him to go out and dance with Roger, especially when I saw that he and Chrissy were laughing and smiling and very deep in conversation with each other. 

I turned to Roger and said, “I’m going to go sit down now.”

“Wait, what?” Roger scowled at me. “You can’t leave now, we’re just starting to have fun!”

“Yeah, I know, but…” I said, motioning toward Brian and Chrissy.

“He’s fine! Nothing’s going to happen between them,” Roger said, waving away my concern. He grabbed my hand and said, “Come on, let’s go get another drink.”

I knew that the last thing I needed was another drink, but I allowed Roger to drag me inside to the bar area nonetheless. The band was ten times louder inside the restaurant than out, and Roger and I had to shout into each other’s ears in order to be heard. We each ordered a mixed drink, and I was relieved when the song ended while we were standing at the bar waiting. Finally I could hear myself think!

“Hang on, I’ll be right back,” Roger suddenly told me, as he dashed off in what I thought was the direction of the bathroom.

A couple of minutes later the band struck up a loud version of _Wild Thing_ by the Troggs, as the bartender handed me Roger’s drink and mine. I saw Roger bounding across the restaurant grinning from ear to ear and I handed him his drink as we went back outside to join the revelers once again. Everyone was drunkenly singing the lyrics to _Wild Thing_ and laughing hysterically, so Roger and I joined in. I looked over to see if Brian was okay, and he looked at me and smiled weakly, giving me a little wave, as Chrissy turned to see who he was looking at. I motioned to them both to come over and join in the fun, but Brian made a slight face, putting his hand over his stomach. I could tell that something was wrong and escaped the crowd long enough to walk over and ask him if he was all right.

“My stomach isn’t feeling very well,” Brian admitted.

“Well, let’s go back to the campground then,” I said.

“No, no, you’re having fun, and I don’t want to ruin Roger’s birthday,” Brian said.

I frowned at him and said, “You’re not going to ruin Roger’s birthday. Everyone’s going to have a good time whether we’re here or not, so let’s go back to the campground so you can rest.”

“I really think I’ll be fine,” Brian said. “The combination of too much beer and birthday cake has just sort of done me in a bit.”

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“Positive,” Brian grinned. “Besides, I’m enjoying watching you dance. I had no idea you had those kind of moves in you.”

“You’ve seen me dance around my flat before,” I smiled.

“Yes, but not like this,” Brian laughed.

Chrissy, I noticed, didn’t say a word the entire time we were talking, and just looked down at the table quietly.

It was at that moment that the evening took an unexpected turn. Surf City had just finished playing _Wild Thing,_ and I distantly heard the singer say something about “slowing things down a bit”. I froze as the strains of Eric Clapton’s _Bell Bottomed Blues_ came wafting out of the restaurant. I turned as Roger approached me from across the deck with a sad eyed innocent smile on his face. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Roger had asked the band to play what had once been our song. It was likely where he had gone while I’d been waiting for him at the bar, I realized.

“Still feel like dancing?” he asked me sheepishly, holding out his hand.

I looked over my shoulder at Brian, and he just motioned his hand toward the dance floor as if to say, “Go ahead.”

I looked back at Roger smiling so sweetly at me, and with the alcohol impairing my judgment, I decided that one little slow dance with him on his birthday wouldn’t hurt. I took his offered hand as he led me to a secluded corner of the deck. He wrapped an arm around my waist as he grasped my hand tightly, and we held each other close as we danced just like we had so many months before at our hotel room in Brighton.

“Roger, you’re killing me,” I whispered, looking up into those big blue eyes of his.

He just shrugged and said, “We danced to this for your birthday, so I thought it was only right that we danced to it for mine.”

I tried desperately to hold back the tears as I said, “Why are you doing this to me Roger?”

“I told you, because I still love you,” Roger replied.

“Roger, is this really about you being in love with me still, or is it more about the fact that you can’t have me anymore?” I asked quietly. “Because I feel like if you and I had broken up on different terms then we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now. I think that I would have been just like any other girl that you’ve gotten over without any problem. The difference this time is that I fell in love with your best friend, and you just don’t know how to deal with that.”

“That’s not true,” Roger replied with a slight shake of his head. “I told you, you mean more to me than any other girl that I’ve ever been with. Yes it hurts that you chose Brian over me, but I’m not trying to get you back just because I want some sort of revenge on Brian, I’m trying to get you back because I still love you, and I miss you being in my life.”

“Roger, I don’t know what to say…”

“Say that you’ll take a walk with me, just the two of us,” Roger pleaded. “Let’s go somewhere where we can be alone and talk.”

“I can’t, Roger. You know I can’t,” I said as I let go of Roger’s hand and backed away from him slightly. I looked up into his big blue eyes and said, “You know, you kept asking me all day today to tell you that I don’t love you, well, I can’t, because I suppose that somewhere deep down I do still love you. I probably always will. Things ended badly between us, and its been every bit as hard for me to get over as it has been for you. But things ended between us for a reason. No matter how much I might still care about you, it pales in comparison to the way that I feel about Brian. I love him in a way that I’ve never loved anybody, and I can’t possibly imagine my life without him. So I need you to stop pursuing me, please, and give Brian and me your approval once and for all.”

Roger gazed down at me with a sad and disheartened look in his eyes. “Are you sure that’s really what you want?”

“Yes, it’s really what I want,” I replied.

“Then I promise that I’ll leave you alone and let you and Brian be happy together,” Roger said with a furrowed brow. “I hope that we can always remain friends though, because I can’t imagine my life without you.”

“I’d like that,” I said. “And I really mean that, because I couldn’t imagine my life without you either.”

Roger reached down and touched the necklace I’d given him, which he’d been wearing almost since he’d unwrapped it. “I’ll give you this necklace back if you think it’s going to be weird, me wearing it.” 

“No, I made that for you because I wanted you to have it, and I’d feel terrible if you didn’t wear it,” I answered.

Roger turned his eyes toward the ground and nodded briefly, then looked back up at me and said, “One more hug for old times sake?”

I reached up and wrapped my arms around his neck as he bent down and squeezed me tight. I willed myself not to cry over the painful memories that holding Roger brought to the forefront of my mind. I pulled away and looked up into those sad blue eyes of his, and said, “I’ve got to go.”

When I turned around to walk back to the table where Brian had been sitting, I saw that he was gone. And so was Chrissy.


	47. Chapter 47

I looked all around the deck and even inside the restaurant trying to find Brian, but I couldn’t see him, or Chrissy, anywhere. I figured that he must have gone back to the campsite since he wasn’t feeling well, so I made my way across the beach and along the familiar trail that led to what had been our home away from home for over a week.

I had just turned a corner around a cluster of trees, the campground almost within my sights, when I nearly ran headlong into Chrissy, who was walking away from the campsite back in the direction of the Watering Hole.

“Oh, hi Carrie,” Chrissy said quietly.

“Hi, um, where’s Brian?” I asked.

“He’s at the campsite,” Chrissy replied quickly, motioning her thumb over her shoulder.

“Got it, thanks,” I said, moving in the direction of the campground.

“Can I tell you something?” Chrissy asked suddenly from several feet behind me. There was no doubt whatsoever that I wasn’t going to like whatever it was that she was about to say.

Nevertheless, I turned, gave her a weak smile and said, “Sure.”

“Brian’s really sensitive, you know,” Chrissy said with a slight edge to her voice. “He gets hurt easily.”

After everything that Brian had told me about his break up with Chrissy, was she honestly going to stand there and lecture me about hurting Brian?

“I know,” I replied, trying to keep my irritation with her at bay.

“I’m just saying, he loves you. A lot. So you might want to be careful,” Chrissy went on.

My blood pressure felt like it was about to go off the charts. I took a cautious step toward her, and as calmly as possible, said, “Chrissy, I’m sure you mean well, but my relationship with Brian is between Brian and me. The best thing you can do is to stay out of it, okay?”

And with that, I turned on my heel and walked away before my anger and resentment could get the better of me.

When I reached the campsite, I found Brian sitting in one of the folding chairs poking at a roaring campfire with a long stick, staring straight ahead at the crackling flames in silence. I stood watching him for a minute, and felt like the biggest idiot in the world. I’d never seen him looking so depressed, and I knew that it was because I’d been laughing and carrying on with Roger all night.

“Hey,” I said at last, walking further into the campground.

“Oh, hey,” he said, looking up and forcing a feeble smile.

“Are you feeling okay?” I asked. “I turned around at the restaurant and you were gone all of the sudden.”

“Do I make you happy?” Brian asked in reply, looking solemnly down into the dancing flames of the campfire.

“What?” I asked. “Of course you make me happy. How can you even ask that?”

I walked over and sat in the chair closest to Brian as he continued to poke at the fire.

“I’ve just been watching you and Roger all day,” Brian shrugged. “The two of you always seem like you’re having such a good time together. Sometimes I wonder if you would have been better off had you stayed with him.”

“Brian, look at me, please,” I implored. He turned his head and gazed at me with so much sadness in his eyes that it took all of my willpower not to cry. “Yes, Roger and I like to laugh and have a good time, but he’s not you. I could never love him the way that I love you. Roger and I are just friends these days, nothing more. I’m sorry if we got a little carried away for his birthday.”

“I don’t know,” Brian said, shaking his head slightly. “It just seems like there’s more to it than that with the two of you. I feel like there’s a connection with you and Roger that you and I don’t have. Even Chrissy’s noticed it.”

I took a deep steadying breath, my lips pressed into a thin line, as I said, “Oh, well, pray tell, what did Chrissy have to say?” 

“You don’t have any room to be angry with her you know. We’re just friends too, same as you and Roger,” Brian said.

“How can you possibly defend her after everything you told me about the way she and her family treated you?” I demanded.

“I’m not defending her,” Brian argued. “But I’ve got to tell you, I was glad that she was around tonight so that I didn’t have to suffer all alone as I watched my girlfriend cavorting about with her ex-boyfriend.”

Feelings of anger and guilt welled up inside of me. I knew that I had gotten a little carried away with Roger at the Watering Hole, but Brian was scarcely less guilty, spending the evening laughing and chatting with Chrissy, and then walking back to camp with her all alone.

“May I just point out something?” I asked, trying to keep my voice as calm and rational as possible. “You spent just as much time with your ex tonight as I did with mine. How are the two situations different?”

“All I was doing was talking with Chrissy,” Brian replied. “I wasn’t persuading the band to strike up our old song so that I could slow dance with her.”

Okay, so even I had to admit that that looked bad.

“That wasn’t my idea, okay?” I said quietly, picking at a speck of dirt on my jeans.

“Maybe not, but you didn’t exactly tell Roger no, did you?” Brian argued.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” I said, looking sheepishly at Brian. “I guess I shouldn’t have danced with Roger.”

“It wasn’t just the dancing,” Brian said irritably. “It was the necklace that you’d clearly put a lot of thought into, and the way that the two of you were whispering and laughing in the laundry room today…”

Brian jabbed a little harder than necessary at the fire with the stick, shaking his head slightly as he gazed at the flames.

“I guess it just made me start to question our relationship, and whether or not you still have feelings for Roger,” Brian went on.

I struggled for words as I raked a hand through my hair. Little did Brian know how much I truly had been questioning my feelings for Roger that day.

“Can I be honest with you?” I asked.

“Are you about to tell me that you’re still in love with Roger?” Brian asked, looking as though he were about to cry, as he stared at me with a fretful expression.

I took the stick from his hand and tossed it to the ground before reaching for both of his hands with my own. We turned toward each other, gazing into each other’s eyes, as I said, “No, that’s not what I’m about to tell you.” I took a deep breath, trying to fight my emotions as I went on, “Look, you have to understand. Roger was my first everything. He was the first guy that I’d ever really fallen in love with, the first guy that I ever had sex with, and our break up was very difficult for both of us. I don’t think that either one of us had the closure that we needed, until tonight.”

“So what changed?” Brian asked. “What happened between the two of you today? I know that there was something.”

“I’m not going to lie,” I began. “Roger did tell me that he still had unresolved feelings for me, and I realized that there will always be a tiny piece of my heart that will hold special feelings for him, just because he was my first everything. I don’t know if it’s the same for guys as it is for girls, but those first serious, intimate relationships are tough for us to get over sometimes. And it didn’t help that our break up was so bitter.”

“So, what are you saying, that you still love him?” Brian asked.

“No…” I sighed. “Jesus, I’m making a complete hash of things… What I’m saying, is that Roger will always have a special place in my heart, just like, I’m sure, that Chrissy will have in yours. But I’m not in love with him anymore. There was a reason why we broke up, he and I, and it wasn’t just because he was a hopeless flirt, or that I didn’t feel like I could trust him. Both of those things are true, but there’s a lot more to it than that. The real reason that Roger and I broke up was because I realized how much in love I was with you. I’ve thought about this a million times, trying to pinpoint the exact moment when I started to have feelings for you, and I swear, I think it was that first night when we met at Freddie’s…”

“No, you only had eyes for Roger that night…”

“That’s not true,” I said, shaking my head. “Roger was new and exciting, yes, but the second I saw you, I felt something. I can still see you sitting there, playing _Mother Nature’s Son…”_

“You still remember what song I was playing?” Brian asked with a faint sparkle in his eyes. “I can’t even remember what song I was playing.”

“It was _Mother Nature’s Son,”_ I smiled. “And it was perfect. I swear to you, I thought someone was playing the Beatles’ _White Album_ somewhere in Freddie’s flat. That’s how much you impressed me. I felt a chemistry with you the second we started talking in Freddie’s living room. It took me a while to realize that I was in love with you, but once I did, I just knew that you were the one. I knew that what I felt for you was completely different than what I felt for Roger, and that I couldn’t live without you in my life anymore.”

“Yeah, but, do you ever wish that you and I could be more like you and Roger were?” Brian asked. “Cause I know that I’m more serious than he is, that I don’t joke around as much…”

“I want you to be exactly who you are, and not like anybody else on this planet,” I told him. “If I wanted to spend the rest of my life with someone like Roger, then I would have stayed with Roger. I fell in love with Brian Harold May, and Brian Harold May is who I want to spend the rest of my life with.”

Brian gave me a small smile, the light slowly reaching his beautiful hazel eyes once more.

“I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “I guess I’ve just been feeling sorry for myself for some reason today, thinking that I was holding you back somehow.”

“Well stop it,” I teased, as I stood back up and plopped myself onto his lap, “because we’ve got a lot to look forward to when we get home. Have I told you lately how excited I am that you and I are actually going to be living together?”

Brian let out a small laugh and said, “We’ve pretty much already _been_ living together since the end of March, if you think about it.”

“Yes, I know, but now it will be official,” I said, reaching up to wrap my arms around Brian’s neck. “We’ll have all of our things together in one place. No more running back and forth between our flats because one of us needs something. It’s going to be perfect domestic bliss.”

“So, when do you want me to move in exactly?” Brian asked, pulling me closer.

“What are you doing this weekend when we get back home?” I asked.

“That soon?” Brian questioned.

“Of course!” I exclaimed. “I can’t wait to have you all to myself, all the time!”

Brian just laughed and said, “Well, let’s see if we can do it this weekend then. I’ll talk to John Harris and see if he wouldn’t mind helping us out with the van, and of course, I’ll need to talk to my landlord and let him know that I’m leaving.”

“I really am excited!” I gushed. “And you know, getting back to you being worried that you’re not fun enough for me, I’ve got news for you, there’s plenty of other ways to have fun besides dancing or joking around.”

“True,” Brian said thoughtfully. “Let’s see, there’s reading books together. Doing schoolwork together. Um, washing dishes together. Am I forgetting anything?”

“I think you know what I’m talking about,” I grinned playfully.

“Oh right! You mean watching the telly together! How could I forget that?” Brian said, completely deadpan.

“Okay, fine,” I sighed, unwrapping my arms from around his neck. “I thought that _maybe,_ since we’re the only ones in the campground right now, that we could have a little fun tonight. But, since we don’t have a _telly,_ I guess we can’t…”

“Oh! You mean _that_ kind of fun!” Brian smiled. 

He slid me off of his lap in one swift movement, then jumped up out of his chair and scooped me up into his arms without a moment’s hesitation, making me squeal with delight.

“How fast do you think I could get these clothes off of you?” Brian whispered.

“I don’t know. I’ve got a watch with a second hand,” I offered. “I’d be happy to time you.”

The two of us kissed long and deep as I wrapped my arms tightly around his neck, tangling my fingers in his hair. He carried me into our tent and laid me down on our sleeping bag before reaching over to zip the door shut.

“Where’s that watch?” Brian asked as he reached down to pull off his sneakers.

“Already wearing it,” I smiled, holding up my arm so that he could see my wrist. “Although now that we’re in the tent, I’m not sure that I can see it. It’s too dark in here.”

“Hang on,” Brian said. He reached for one of the flashlights we’d brought with us and handed it to me.

I flipped the switch to the on position and laid motionless, staring at my watch as the second hand ticked by.

“Okay, wait until it gets to the twelve…” I said. “Ready, set… Go!”

Brian pulled off both of my shoes without bothering to untie the laces then made me twitch and fidget as he accidentally tickled my feet while pulling off both of my socks. He unbuttoned and unzipped my pants making me giggle as he practically dragged me across the tent trying to get both them and my panties off. He reached for the bottom of my shirt next, wriggling it up over my head, and then turned me over slightly, unclasping my bra before raising his hands up in the air and declaring, “Done!”

“Forty five seconds!” I laughed. “Not bad!”

I unclasped my watch from around my wrist and handed it along with the flashlight to Brian, saying, “Okay, my turn!”

Brian was grinning from ear to ear as I made him lay back on the sleeping bag to await his fate. Then it occurred to him that his shoes were already off, and he said, “Hey! No fair. I had to take your shoes off.”

“Oh fine,” I said exasperatedly. “Pad my time by five seconds or something.”

“Okay, fine. Ready?” Brian asked. When I confirmed that I was, he said, “Go!”

His feet were even more ticklish than mine, if that was possible, and he squirmed so relentlessly as I yanked his socks off that I felt like I’d wrestled an alligator by the time I was done. I went for his pants next, which proved to be difficult to remove since they were snug and he already had an erection, but after a little maneuvering, I managed to wriggle both his pants and underwear off one garment at a time. His shirt proved to be the most challenging item of all since it had buttons down the entire front, and it took me forever to unbutton each and every one. By the time I was finished, it had taken me a whopping minute and five seconds.

“Plus the five for the lack of shoes,” Brian reminded me.

“This was totally unfair,” I grumbled. “Your clothes were more difficult to get off than mine. I demand a recount!”

“No sorry,” Brian said as he turned off the flashlight, setting it and my watch aside. “The rules state that once the last article of clothing is removed then the time on the watch is the official result. No recounts.”

“Oh yeah?” I said, kissing his chest and working my way down to his stomach. “I bet I could persuade you…”

I kissed even lower, taking the tip of his hard cock into my mouth.

“Oh fuck,” Brian gasped, running his hands through my hair. “You make quite an argument.”

I licked and sucked, taking as much of him into my mouth as I could. He whimpered and sighed at my touch, grasping my head with both hands, guiding his cock even deeper into my mouth.

“Oh yeah, baby, just like that,” Brian breathed.

I moved my lips up and down the length of his shaft, listening as Brian’s breathing became more ragged, his pleasure more intense.

“Oh God,” he whispered after a few minutes, “Come here…”

He reached under my arms and pulled me toward him, our lips meeting in a fiery kiss as I laid my warm body on top of his. We rolled over until he was partially on top of me, our mouths devouring each other’s as we changed positions.

He slid two long slender fingers inside of me as he kissed his way down to my throat. I spread my legs further apart, providing him with easier access, as he moved inside me faster and deeper, making me whimper with desire.

“Shit, you’re definitely ready for a little fun,” Brian breathed, as he pulled his fingers back out, sticky and wet, and seductively sucked on them as I watched.

“Mm-hmm,” was all I could manage, my breath catching in my throat at the sight of Brian’s lustful behavior.

He positioned himself between my legs, kissing me hard and deep, as he teased me by rubbing his hard cock against my sensitive flesh. I whimpered and moaned into his mouth, tasting my own desire on his tongue, as I wrapped my legs around him, needing desperately to feel him inside of me.

He didn’t keep me waiting long thankfully. He propped himself above me and plunged inside me hard and deep, making me cry out with pleasure.

“Fuck yes,” Brian mumbled, as he moved faster and harder, lifting my legs in the air, thrusting even deeper inside me. I was crying out with every move, begging him to screw me harder. He was more than happy to oblige, as he held onto my waist and pounded his hips into my body.

It was a warm evening, and the sweat was starting to glisten on his body as he told me to roll over. I did as he asked, and turned over onto my stomach, lifting my ass up in the air slightly. He laid down behind me, grasping my butt cheeks firmly in his hands, as he plunged his tongue deep into my wetness, sending shivers down my entire body.

“Brian,” I gasped. “Oh God, Brian…”

I could feel the scratchiness of his newly grown beard as it rubbed against my sensitive skin, and I found myself getting even more turned on from the sensation. His mouth worked magic as always, finding all the right spots and making me whimper with desire. Soon he was up on his knees, positioning himself behind me, as he lifted my ass higher into the air, plunging his hard cock back inside my warm wet body.

I cried out with ecstasy as he clung to my hips, thrusting harder and deeper as we both whimpered and moaned, feeling our climaxes slowly building. I grasped the edge of our sleeping bag, holding on for dear life as Brian continued to move faster inside of me.

“Oh God!” I cried as wave after wave of pleasure washed over me.

Brian plunged inside of me one last time as his sweaty body collapsed over the top of me.

“Fuck,” he breathed as he came deep inside of me, his damp curly hair brushing against my back.

We both became aware, at that moment, of hushed voices coming from outside of our tent.

“Are you two finished now so that the rest of us can get some sleep?” Freddie’s voice rang out from right outside of our tent. Somewhere further away in the campground another male voice, which sounded like it belonged to John Harris, yelled out “Go Brian!” It was followed by laughter and giggles from everyone else in the camp.

“Son of a bitch,” Brian grumbled as the two of us rolled onto our backs to lie side by side on top of the sleeping bag. He wiped the sweat from his face and yelled out, “I thought you were all supposed to be at The Watering Hole!”

“Sounds like you visited the watering hole yourself…” Freddie snickered. This brought on another round of laughter from everyone.

“Don’t you people have anything better to do than worry about our fucking sex life?” Brian shouted.

“Not really,” Roger said, obviously near our tent as well now. “Especially when you’re so vocal about it. ‘Oh God Brian!’”

“Oh Carrie!” Freddie said in a deep voice.

“Oh Brian!” Roger said again, repeating his best girly voice.

More laughter echoed from around the campsite.

“Why don’t you two just leave them alone?” This time it was a female voice that sounded a lot like April’s.

“Fine, fine. I’m heading off to my room at the bed & breakfast anyway,” Freddie said.

“Yeah, fuck each other all you want, just keep it down so the rest of us can get some sleep!” Roger admonished, slurring every other word.

Brian and I just looked at each other and shook our heads.

“See, we know how to have fun,” I smiled, curling up against his side.

“I say we do it again even louder and really piss them off,” Brian smirked.

“Tempting, very tempting,” I laughed, leaning over to give Brian a nice long kiss.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

The next day was our last full day at camp, and I had to admit, I was ready to go home. After breakfast, Brian and I snuck off to the showers, and since no one else was around, we both went into the men’s side to take a shower together. Of course, we were never alone for long, it seemed, and soon a very bleary eyed and hung over Roger came stumbling into the room.

“Oh fuck me,” Roger groaned as soon as he saw us. “Do you two ever give it a rest?”

“Someone’s got to wash his hair for him,” I teased. 

Thankfully we were well concealed behind the frosted glass door of our stall.

“Are you fucking kidding me? You wash his hair for him?” Roger asked, staring at us completely aghast.

“He washes mine too,” I smiled.

“Oh God, I think I’m going to be sick…” Roger said, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.

“Oh shut up!” I admonished. “So we wash each other’s hair! Big deal!”

“No, really, I think I’m going to be sick,” Roger mumbled before rushing off to another shower stall in the corner.

“Oh, dear Lord…” I whispered, trying not to make a face as Brian and I listened to the sound of Roger puking up all the alcohol he’d consumed the night before.

“Well, so much for a nice romantic shower,” Brian grumbled.

Once we determined that Roger was okay, we finished washing quickly, dried off, got dressed, and headed back to camp. Not wanting to leave everything until the last minute, we started packing up the things that we thought wouldn’t be absolutely necessary for our last day of camping and hauled them off to the car. 

By the early afternoon Mike and Janet and their two kids came wandering into the campsite, asking Roger how his birthday had gone and if we were all ready to go home the next day. Roger told them all about our night at The Watering Hole, and everybody agreed that they were, in fact, more than ready to go home.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you actually,” Brian told Mike and Janet as little Eric pushed a dump truck around in the dirt making loud car noises with his mouth.

“Sure, what did you need?” Mike asked.

“Well, you know the kittens in your barn… Are they old enough to be adopted?” Brian asked.

“Kittens?” Freddie asked, overhearing our conversation. “Nobody told me that there were kittens to be adopted!”

Janet just laughed and said, “Yes, there’s a litter of five out in the barn, and yes, they’re ready for some new homes. Were you thinking of taking one?”

“Yes, we were thinking of taking the little grey one, if that’s okay,” I said.

“Harold? You’re going to take Harold?” Eric asked.

“If it’s all right,” Brian hastened to add.

“Of course, it’s fine,” Mike said, waving aside our concern.

“I want to see the kittens,” Freddie chimed in. “Mary! You want to see their kittens?”

All the girls in our campsite were eager to see them as well, so we all trekked over to the barn as a group, and everyone gushed over how adorable the kittens were.

Little Harold was playing with one of his sisters and biting her ear, but as soon as he saw us, he came wandering over looking for attention.

“Oh, there’s my little baby,” I said, picking him up and rubbing his head. He immediately started purring and reached up to touch his tiny pink nose to my chin. I held him out to Brian and said, “Here, wanna hold him?”

Brian took him from me and started talking quietly to him under his breath as he scratched his little head. Roger, meanwhile, seemed to have made friends with the little Calico girl that Stephanie and Eric called Lola, and Freddie and Mary had fallen in love with the little brown tabby called Martha. John Harris’ girlfriend Mags was determined to take the little orange kitty home, and Roger’s friend Eileen from Cornwall was gushing over the other calico. By the time we all left the barn, every kitten had been spoken for.

“Well, that’s the quickest we’ve ever given away a litter of kittens in our life!” Mike exclaimed.

The rest of the day was bittersweet as we all played volleyball one last time, went down to the beach one last time, and sat around the campfire one last time shooting the breeze. As much fun as we’d all had throughout our ten days, I had to admit that I was thoroughly exhausted, not to mention more than a little sunburned, and very much looking forward to the next morning when Brian and I could get up, pack the rest of our things and head for home. A home that I happily kept reminding myself we would be sharing by the end of the weekend.

That evening around the campfire, Brian asked John Harris what his plans were for the weekend and if he would be available to help him move.

“Yeah man, no problem,” John replied. “Just not too early. I’m looking forward to a decent night’s sleep in my own bed again.”

“God, I hear you there,” Brian said. “I don’t think I want to see another sleeping bag for a very long time.”

Roger overheard Brian and John’s conversation and said, “If you need any help moving, just let me know.”

Brian gave him an earnest smile and said, “I may just take you up on that.”

We all crashed relatively early that night, knowing that the following day was going to be a busy one. The morning dawned slightly damp and foggy, and I suddenly felt like I had all the energy in the world, knowing that I was finally going home. I understood at that point why I had never been on a camping trip that lasted so long in my life, and I didn’t plan on doing it ever again.

Mike, Janet and their kids came by after we’d eaten our last breakfast at camp, and offered to help tear everything down. It ended up being a massive job with multiple sleeping bags to roll up, eight tents to take down, and all of our personal belongings and food to be sorted through, packed up and loaded into cars. Everyone started out packing up their own personal things so that we could clear out the tents and get them ready to be torn down. Even though Brian and I had packed up and loaded much of our things the day before, there was still clothes, camping equipment, toiletries and much more that had to be boxed up and stuffed into the car.

Once everyone’s personal effects were taken care of, the guys set about tearing down the tents with Mike and Janet’s help, and the other girls and I ended up right back where we’d started, in the little makeshift kitchen dealing with all of the food items. It took forever for everyone to remember who had brought what and sort it all into boxes and bags, but eventually we got there. Judging by the canned foods that we had left, it looked like Brian and I were going to be eating lots of beans, veggies and soup for a while.

Soon the campsite that we had all called home for the past ten days looked barren and sad, with everything but the tables and campfire being hauled away. Brian and I took up the last few pictures on each of our rolls of film to commemorate the occasion, and soon our cameras were packed away along with everything else.

Everyone said their goodbyes, and most people gave Brian and me their addresses so that we could send them copies of the photographs that we’d taken. There were lots of hugs and handshakes and many pleas for everyone to keep in touch. All that was left was for everyone to go round up their kittens so that we could all hit the road, and I was eternally grateful when John Harris offered to give Chrissy and April a lift back to the train station so that Brian and I didn’t have to.

We all thanked Mike and Janet heartily for a wonderful time, gave quick hugs to Stephanie and Eric, and finally we were off. _Comfortable bed, here we come!!_ I thought happily as we left the picturesque Cornish coastline behind us.


	48. Chapter 48

Although I loved our adorable little kitty Harold with all my heart, I have to say that riding in a car for four hours with a him climbing the seats, playing with the steering wheel and mewling the entire way was not the most enjoyable of things. I figured that Brian and I would go straight to my place as we approached London, but instead, Brian decided to stop off quickly at his parent’s house to drop off some of the camping gear we’d borrowed and see if it was possible for him to store some of the things from his flat in his old bedroom.

We pulled up in front of his parents’ house in Feltham, and I had to hang on to little Harold for dear life as we went inside.

“Brian, Carrie! This is a surprise,” Ruth greeted us. “We thought you were still on your camping trip.”

“Just getting home from it,” Brian replied.

“What in the world is that growing on your face?” Ruth asked her son, as she closed the door and led us through the living room and into the kitchen.

“Oh, I grew a beard while we were camping,” Brian laughed as he reached up to scratch at his chin.

“I can see that. And who is this?” Ruth asked, reaching out to pet our new kitten, who was clinging to my shirt for dear life.

“This is our new little baby, Harold,” I said. “We adopted him from the family that owned the campground in Cornwall.”

“Harold?” Ruth laughed. She called to Brian’s dad who was just in the next room over, and said, “Carrie named her little cat after you!”

“She did?” Harold May asked vaguely, strolling into the kitchen to see what all the fuss was about.

“The cat came with the name, and Carrie didn’t want to change it,” Brian smiled, shaking his head at me.

“Is he hungry do you think? That’s a long drive all the way from Cornwall,” Ruth said.

“He probably is,” I admitted.

“Well, let’s just get out a bit of Shadow’s food for him,” Ruth said.

Ruth procured a small can of cat food from a kitchen cupboard and spooned the contents out onto a dessert-sized plate, placing that along with a small bowl of water on the kitchen counter. Harold caught one whiff of the delicious smelling food and tucked in immediately.

“So what brings you by?” Brian’s dad asked while we were fussing with the cat.

“Actually, I was wondering if there’s enough space in my old room to store a few of my things,” Brian replied.

“What do you need to store?” Harold asked.

“Well, um, I’m going to be moving out of my flat and into Carrie’s, so, I need a place to put some of my things,” Brian answered. I could tell that he was nervous as he explained the situation to his dad, and it didn’t take long to figure out why.

“Carrie’s flat? Where’s Carrie going then?” Harold asked.

Brian cleared his throat and replied, “She’s going to be living there too, Dad.”

Harold contemplated his son for a minute, then said, “You know how I feel about this sort of thing, son.”

“Yes, I know,” Brian said as patiently as possible. “But we’re basically already living together, Dad. It only makes sense for us to have just one place to worry about and share the expenses for.”

Ruth and I kept relatively quiet, watching the cat as he ate and trying to stay out of the conversation, hoping that it wasn’t going to turn into a full-blown argument.

“Brian, in my day, men had more respect for women,” Harold told his son. “I would never have dreamed of dishonoring your mother in such a way. If you want to live with Carrie, then you ask her to marry you.”

“Dad, you know that I have the utmost respect for Carrie, but things are complicated between us. She’s going to be going back to America in a year’s time,” Brian explained.

“All right, and then what? Where are you going to go after she leaves?” Harold asked.

“I’ve already settled things with Roger,” Brian said. “While Carrie’s in America Roger’s going to share her place with me until she comes back.”

“Comes back?” Harold asked, looking across the kitchen at me. “Are you planning on coming back?”

“Yes, I’m hoping to find a job here in London after I’m finished with school,” I replied.

“Are you doing that for Brian’s sake, or do you just like living over here?” Harold asked.

“Um, a bit of both, but mainly because I love Brian, and I’m hoping that we’re going to have a future together,” I said, looking a little awkwardly at Brian, who was obviously upset that his dad was giving both of us the third degree.

“I don’t know, son, I just don’t like it,” Harold said, shaking his head at Brian.

“Harold, the times are changing dear,” Ruth quietly interjected. “I can tell that Brian and Carrie love each other very much.”

“If he loves her, then he should marry her,” Harold replied.

“Dad, it’s just not possible right now,” Brian said exasperatedly. “Carrie and I both need to finish with our education, and I’ve got work to do with Queen. Someday when things settle down for both of us, then it will be different. But for now, I love her, and I’m going to live with her. Now, can I store some things here or not?”

“Harold,” Ruth quietly reproached, as Brian’s dad stared impatiently at his son, his arms folded firmly across his chest.

“Fine,” Harold said at last, throwing his hands up in defeat. “Let’s go see how much space you’re going to need.”

Both father and son walked off in the direction of Brian’s old room, and Ruth and I exchanged uncomfortable glances as the kitten finished up his meal.

By the time we left Brian’s parent’s place, I could see that Brian was visibly stressed. He wasn’t saying much, and he had a scowl etched deeply into this forehead. We got into the car, heading back down Walsham Road, and I reached over to gently touch his leg as he drove.

“Are you okay?” I asked quietly.

He shook his head slightly and said, “I’m fine. I just wish my dad could be more understanding at times. I’m sorry if it felt like you were on trial because of him.”

“Sweetheart, it’s okay,” I said reassuringly. “He’s just a dad doing what dad’s do, looking out for his child’s wellbeing. He’s worried about you, that’s all.”

“Yeah, well, I wish he’d worry without embarrassing me or making me feel like a child,” Brian fumed.

We stopped off at a pet store on the way to my place and picked up all the necessary things for little Harold, including food, feeding dishes, a litter box and litter. Finally, after what felt like a seriously long day, we were home.

“Welcome to your new house, Harold!” I said to the cat as we walked through the front door. I set him down on the floor, and although he was initially a little scared, it didn’t take long before he bounded across the room, climbed on the couch and began chasing his tail. Brian and I laughed at our silly new baby, and I got his food dishes and litter box set up for him while Brian started hauling all of our things from the car up to the flat.

Once the cat was settled, I went downstairs to help Brian, and after several trips, we finally had everything in the flat. We set most of the stuff on the bed to be sorted through later so that we could sit and rest for a bit, and hopefully find something to eat. As tired as we both were, I told Brian that I thought it was definitely a Chinese take-out night. He agreed, and ran down the street to the restaurant that we always ordered from to pick it up.

It felt unbelievably good to be back in civilization once again, relaxing on the couch in front of the TV and eating something that hadn’t come from a can. We introduced the cat to his food and litter box, which he took to with no problem, and then after our nice relaxing dinner, it was time to start putting everything away. We sorted through the clothes, making a pile that was clean and a pile that was dirty, I put all the food away in the kitchen, and Brian put away all the incidentals like flashlights, radios, etc. Once that was done, we both felt like lying in our comfy bed for the first time in ten days, so we each grabbed a book and I grabbed the cat, and we reveled in the sensation of relaxing in a nice warm room with a roof over our heads. We both ended up reading for a bit and laughing at Harold’s antics before finally falling asleep, our books lying open across our chests and the cat periodically chewing on our toes before finally nestling in Brian’s hair for the night.

We woke up the next morning to find the kitten quite literally hanging from the curtains in the living room.

“There goes my rental deposit,” I grumbled, as Brian and I made our way into the kitchen to feed the little monster and find something for breakfast. We were still completely exhausted from the camping trip, but just the same, we were very much looking forward to starting our lives together in the same flat.

We sat chatting over a bowl of cereal, discussing which of Brian’s things needed to be moved into my flat and which items needed to be stored at his parents’ place, as the cat kept trying to climb our legs under the table. As soon as Brian was done with his cereal, he reached down to pick the cat up and put him on the table to see if he wanted any of his leftover milk.

“Brian Harold May, you’re going to have that cat spoiled rotten, I can see right now!” I teased as I took my bowl to the sink.

After breakfast Brian made a couple of phone calls, starting with John Harris and Roger to see if they were still willing to help him move, and then he figured that he’d better call his landlord to tell him that he planned on moving out. It was settled that John Harris would go pick up Roger before coming by to get us, and the only thing that Brian’s landlord seemed to care about was how much money Brian still owed him for the remainder of the month.

We showered and dressed quickly, donning our most comfortable jeans, t-shirts and sneakers, and before long John and Roger showed up at our door, looking every bit as tired as we did.

“Hey guys,” I said cheerfully, opening up the door. I motioned for them to come inside, and asked, “So, are you still exhausted from the camping trip too?”

“I’m more exhausted from that bloody cat I brought home,” Roger complained.

“Same here,” John said.

Then, as if on cue, Harold came bounding out of the bedroom followed closely by Brian, and raced up Roger’s pant leg.

“I see yours is as insane as mine,” Roger laughed, reaching down to peel Harold off of his leg and hold him.

“Hey fellas,” Brian smiled. “Thanks for offering to help me out today. Are you ready to do this?”

“Ready when you are,” John replied.

It occurred to all of us that we were probably going to need some boxes or bags or something to pack Brian’s smaller items into, so I dug in my cupboards for as many brown paper grocery bags as I could find, and we stopped off at the corner market on the way to Brian’s to ask for some boxes. We all rode together in John’s van, and I had to admit, there was a strange smell coming from somewhere in the back that I couldn’t quite identify. It made me wonder what else had gone on in his van other than hauling the band’s equipment. I just tried to ignore it as best I could, and soon we were pulling up in front of Brian’s building.

Once we were inside, we decided to divide and conquer. Brian and John thought it would be best to start loading up the large items that would be going to Brian’s parent’s house first, since multiple trips were going to have to be made in order to get everything out of the flat. All three guys, therefore, hauled Brian’s bed, kitchen table and chairs, couch, coffee table and living room chair out of the flat first. My job was to start packing the smaller items, so I grabbed some of the boxes, headed into the kitchen, and started loading up dishes, pots and pans, tea kettles and the like. Once all the big furniture was loaded into the van it needed to be taken to Brian’s parents house to be unloaded, so it was decided that John and Brian would go and leave Roger and me to continue packing.

I had already finished packing up everything in the kitchen area other than the food in Brian’s tiny refrigerator, what there was of it that hadn’t already gone bad that was, so Roger and I decided to start working on Brian’s bookshelves.

“We’d better not touch any of Brian’s personal collections like his cheese labels or matchbooks, otherwise he’ll have a cow,” I told Roger.

“He’ll have a what?” Roger asked, giving me a quizzical look.

“A cow,” I repeated.

“What the bloody hell does that mean?” Roger questioned.

“It means he’ll get upset, you know, throw a fit,” I explained.

Roger just stared at me shaking his head slightly. “You Americans have the strangest sayings I’ve ever heard in my life, you know that?”

I just laughed and said, “Why don’t you start with the records, and I’ll work on the books.”

I had a sneaking suspicion that Brian was going to have a cow no matter what, just because we were inevitably going to get his stuff out of order, and probably not pack it to his exact specifications. I knew how fussy I was about my books and records, and Brian was even worse.

“So, today’s the official move in day, eh?” Roger asked, carefully tucking a stack of records into a box.

“Today’s the day,” I smiled, as I poured through stacks of books by C.S. Lewis, Tolkien and Herman Hesse, amongst others.

“Are you happy?” Roger asked quietly.

“Very happy,” I assured him.

“Then I’m happy for you,” Roger said. “I know Freddie and I give you and Brian a lot of shit, calling you the ducks and all, but the more I see of you and Brian together, the more I think that you really do belong together.”

“This is quite the change of heart from a few days ago when you were kissing me and telling me that you still loved me,” I said softly.

“My feelings haven’t changed, but it’s clear to me now that yours have,” Roger said. “And like I told you, I’d rather have you in my life as a friend than not at all.”

“I feel the same way,” I told him.

“I also wanted to tell you how sorry I am about everything that happened on my birthday,” Roger went on, rifling through Brian’s 45s. I cringed as I watched him get them all out of order and then stuff them haphazardly into their awaiting box. “I was being selfish that day, and I know that I took things too far, and… Well, I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right,” I said as reassuringly as I could, as I pulled stacks of Dan Dare comic books off of Brian’s shelf, trying my best to keep them in perfect order. “It wasn’t all you. I should have been stronger and told you to knock it off.”

“Was Brian pissed off that we were dancing?” Roger asked, trying to sound casual and concerned, while a faint light twinkled in his eyes all the while at the very thought of irritating his friend.

“He wasn’t happy,” I admitted. “But we talked, and everything is fine as you can see.”

“Well, I figured everything was all right when I heard the two of you inside of your tent that night,” Roger smirked.

“You had to bring that up, didn’t you?” I asked dryly, giving him a contemptuous look.

“I’m sorry, but the two of you sound hilarious when you have sex!” Roger laughed. “I can only imagine what you must look like…”

“Well, let’s hope that you never find out!” I railed, stuffing the last of Brian’s comics into the box.

By the time Brian and John got back with the empty van, Roger and I had cleared most of the stuff off of Brian’s bookshelves, and had even packed up half of the things in his bedroom closet. Brian was amazed at how quickly everything was moving along, and had to give a quick nod of approval to the way that Roger and I had packed his things. He finished clearing off his bookshelves, packing his most precious collectibles himself, while Roger and I continued to work on the closet and John started loading boxes into the van.

The only pieces of furniture that were really left was Brian’s dresser, a small chair in his bedroom and the bookshelves, and the guys had those few items packed in the van and ready to go in no time at all. Roger and I packed up the last of the things in Brian’s closet, while Brian started putting the things in his bathroom into paper grocery bags. John and Roger kept hauling things downstairs as they were packed, and I started taking armloads of Brian’s clothes down to the van to pile them on top of the boxes that were already inside.

Soon all that was left were the posters and photos on Brian’s walls, his guitars, stands and amps, the food in his fridge, and a few minor incidental items. I was amazed at how quickly we had managed to clear the entire place, and all that was left for Brian to do was to take one last look around at the place he’d called home for the past few years and give it a silent good bye.

We piled into the van and made the short trek across town to my place, where we then had the arduous task of unloading everything. I locked little Harold in my bathroom along with his food, water and litter box so that he wouldn’t run out the front door while it was open, and the grueling process of hauling everything up the stairs began. 

Boxes of kitchen items and food went into the kitchen to be sorted through later, Brian’s bookcases were taken into the living room and bedroom to have all of their books, records and trinkets loaded back onto the shelves at a later time, the clothes and bathroom items were piled onto my bed, and Brian’s guitars were given pride of place in the corner of my living room. We were off to a good start, but Brian and I clearly had a long night of organization ahead of us.

In order to thank Roger and John for all their help I ordered some pizza to be delivered, and the four of us enjoyed a nice relaxing meal after all the hard work with a few slices each and a couple of beers. By this time it was already dark outside, and both Roger and John decided they’d better get home so that Brian and I could deal with the task of putting everything away. I gave each of the guys a kiss on the cheek and a hug for all their help as they were leaving, and then that was it, Brian and I were officially living together.

I suddenly felt the need to throw my arms around that gorgeous man of mine, and practically bowled him over as I jumped on him, wrapping my legs around his body and tangling my hands in his hair as I kissed him.

“What was that for?” he asked with a big grin, his hands clinging to my ass so that I wouldn’t fall.

“I’m just so happy that we’re living together, Mr. May,” I said, looking into his beautiful hazel eyes.

“Me too, Mrs. May,” he laughed, leaning in to kiss the tip of my nose. A thought seemed to occur to him then as he set me back down and said, “You know, I still need to have all my mail forwarded, and I’m going to have to make sure I contact everyone I know and give them my new address and phone number.”

“Wait until I tell Annie that you’ve moved in,” I smiled. “She’s going to be ecstatic.”

“What about your parents?” Brian asked. “How do you think they’re going to react?”

I just shrugged and said, “They’re 5,000 miles away, what are they going to do about it?”

5,000 miles away or not, my mother’s ears must have been burning over the fact that we were talking about her and my dad, because I got a phone call from her that very night as Brian and I were putting everything away. I was in the process of clearing off some space on the bathroom counter for the new addition of razors, shaving cream, cologne, etc., when the phone rang. Brian happened to be walking through the living room at the time, so he answered it.

“Hello? Oh hi Sylvia, how are you? Yes, I’m fine, thanks. Did you? Oh, we were camping. Yes, Carrie actually went camping,” Brian laughed. “No, she did great. Slept in a tent and everything. Did you want to speak to her? She’s just in the other room, let me get her for you.”

I’d heard the conversation from the bathroom and came out to take the receiver from Brian.

“Hello?” I said. “Oh hi Mom. Yes, he is very polite isn’t he?”

Brian and I exchanged a quick smile as he walked past me toward the bedroom.

“Yeah, we are together most of the time, in fact, Brian just moved into my place today. Mom, I’m a big girl now you know. Yes, I know that people didn’t just live together back in your day. Well, I’m hoping that someday we will, but now it’s just not possible. Well, you want me to finish going to school, right? Well then, that’s going to involve me coming back to America for a bit next year. Yes, Mom, I do plan on moving back to England as soon as I’m done with school. Well, I know you don’t want me to, but I want to be with Brian. He can’t move to America. Because, Mom, his band just got a recording deal a while back, and he’s got a lot going on with that and his schooling as well. Oh Mom, you’ll see your grandkids, don’t worry. Thanksgiving? That’s still a few months away, you know, I haven’t even thought about it. Am I coming home? Probably not. Well, I’ve got school to think about, and I don’t want to leave Brian. I don’t think he can afford that right now, Mom. Really? You would? Well, I’ll have to ask him about it and see what he thinks. Plus we’ve got a little cat now as well that someone would have to babysit for us. Yeah, his name is Harold. I will, I’ll send you some pictures. Okay, Mom, well, I’d better get going. I’m trying to help Brian put all of his stuff away. Okay. I will. Right, talk to you soon then. Love you too. Bye.”

I walked back into the bedroom where Brian was wrestling his clothes away from the cat, who was determined to hang from them every time he lifted a stack of them up.

“Well, did you tell your mum about me moving in?” Brian asked, walking to the closet to hang up his clothes.

“Yep,” I replied, picking Harold up and tickling his belly.

“And?” Brian asked.

“And she pretty much said the same sort of thing to me that your dad told you,” I shrugged. “You know, people didn’t live together without being married back in her day and all of that.”

“Is she going to be okay with it?” Brian asked with worried expression as he walked back to the bed for more clothes.

“Oh yeah, she’ll be fine,” I said. “I think it’s just really starting to dawn on her that what you and I have isn’t just some little romance that’s only going to last while I’m in England. She’s already planning on us giving her grandkids, and she’s afraid that she’ll never see them.”

“Oh. That makes me feel really bad actually,” Brian said with a furrowed brow. “I’ve never really thought about the fact that I’m taking you away from your family.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said, waving away his concern. “We’ll cross all those bridges when we come to them. Besides, that’s what airplanes are for, so that people can visit each other.”

I set the cat down on the floor, and within seconds, he was climbing back up on the bed to play with Brian’s clothes. I picked up a stack of shirts to hand to Brian, peeling the cat off of them as I went, and said, “In fact, speaking of airplanes, my mom just told me that she’d love to have both of us come to America for Thanksgiving, her treat.”

“Really?” Brian asked, completely taken aback. “She’d pay for the two of us to fly to America?”

“That’s what she said,” I answered. “So what do you think?”

“When is your Thanksgiving?” Brian asked.

“The fourth Thursday in November,” I replied. I remembered that I had a small calendar in my nightstand, so I pulled it out to check the date. “It looks like it’s going to fall on the 23rd this year.”

“God, I just don’t know about your parents paying for me to go to America,” Brian said after a bit of thought. “I don’t know when I’d ever be able to pay them back.”

“Sweetheart, I don’t think you need to worry about paying them back,” I said. “They really want to meet you, and I think my mom will probably cry the entire day away if I’m not home for Thanksgiving.”

“Well, why don’t you just go then?” Brian suggested. “I know that Thanksgiving is a big deal in America, and I don’t want to keep you from your family.”

“I’m not going anywhere without you,” I said simply. “Besides, wouldn’t you like to visit California and see where I grew up?”

“You know that I’d love to go to California,” Brian replied.

“Well, it’s settled then,” I said firmly. “We’re going to the States in November and I’ll get to show you around.”

“God, a trip to the States,” Brian breathed. “That would be incredible.”

“We’ve got four months to plan, so make sure that Queen doesn’t schedule anything around November 23rd. And we’ll have to find someone to watch Harold for us,” I said.

We spent the rest of the night putting as many things away as we could, clearing away the piles on the bed first so that we’d have a place to sleep. I started absentmindedly singing Led Zeppelin’s _Going To California_ at some point, and before long Brian was singing along with me and asking me a million questions about the trip, from where we’d be staying to what we would see while we were there and anything else he could think of. It made me happy to see that he was so excited, and I was absolutely thrilled that I was going to be able to show him around Fresno and have him meet my parents.

What an amazing day, I thought to myself, as we settled into what was now _our_ bed for the first time ever. I had the man of my dreams living with me and I was going to get to wake up to his angelic face every morning and kiss him good night every night. Okay, so maybe I’d already been doing that, but it just felt different now that all his stuff was in my flat. It felt permanent. There was a real commitment now that we didn’t have before. Add to all of that the fact that I was going to get to see my family in a few months and introduce them to my wonderful guy, and life was looking pretty damn good.


	49. Chapter 49

After all the excitement that our camping trip provided during the month of July, the following months of August and September seemed relatively sedate by comparison. Brian and I both buckled down with our schoolwork, since I had assignments that had to be finished by the start of the fall term, and he still had a bit of work to do on his thesis. It was back to our old late night routine, as Queen went back into the studio to work on their album again. I found myself staying up until all hours of the morning once more, trying to find anything to keep me busy while I waited for Brian to get home. Now that we were living together, it was even more depressing when we were apart, and I found myself feeling very lonely most nights.

Despite the erratic hours we were forced to keep, Brian and I adjusted to living together beautifully, settling quite happily into a state of domestic bliss. We cooked meals together, shared the duties of taking care of the cat, and had undeclared competitions to see who could create the biggest piles of books, papers, etc. around various surfaces of the flat. The coffee table in particular could often be found covered in everything from history notes to astronomy books to scraps of paper with song lyrics scrawled on them. Although it may have appeared outwardly that we were the biggest slobs in the world, we each knew where all of our stuff was located, and when things eventually got out of hand, we very democratically did our fair share to clean the place back up again.

We also set about redecorating the flat a bit so that it would look more like “our” place rather than just “my” place. Brian’s posters of Jimi Hendrix, Led Zeppelin and Cream blended in perfectly with the Beatles posters that I already had up, and we’d also taken several of our favorite photos from the past few months, had them enlarged and framed, and placed those around our walls and shelves as well. These included the first ever shot of us together in front of St. Nicholas’ church in Hampshire, a picture of the two of us at Maxwell’s restaurant in Hampstead, various photos of us taken at home, and a few of our favorites from the camping trip. Instantly, my sad little single girl flat was transformed into a cozy home shared by two.

Eventually the first day of school rolled around for me, and even though that meant getting up early and leaving Brian during the morning hours, I had to admit that it felt good to have a purpose again and be back in a regular routine. And, of course, it was great to see Annie again and have someone to share gossip with once more.

As soon as Annie caught sight of me in the school’s entrance hall she practically bowled me over by throwing her arms around me for a big hug. Then, naturally, we had to fill each other in on everything that had happened over the summer. I told her all about the camping trip, the fact that Queen had spent most of the last few months in the recording studio, and that Brian and I were now living together. She told me that she’d met a guy named Alex while she’d been staying with her extended family in northern England, and that the two of them were now head over heels in love. She said that he also lived in London, just like us, and had been visiting friends out of town when they met. Apparently they had spent part of the summer traveling around England and Scotland seeing the sights, and were now completely inseparable. I was so happy that she’d finally met someone, and told her that I couldn’t wait to meet him.

The beginning of September was a bit of a roller coaster as the members of Queen received the good news from Trident Studios that they were now going to be receiving a weekly paycheck for their work in the sum of 20 pounds apiece. This was excellent news indeed for Brian and me, since we had more expenses than ever, plus a trip to the States on the horizon. Unfortunately, Brian received a bit of bad news when he took his finished thesis into Imperial College, and was told, once again by his professors, that it needed to be revised. After months of hard work and dedication, he was completely and utterly devastated. I watched helplessly as he laid around on the couch for a few days in a state of depression, wondering what he was going to do with his life from that point onward. All of his efforts in his academic career seemed to be going unnoticed, and Queen still didn’t have a record distribution deal through Trident, even though their album was getting close to being finished. He felt completely disheartened, like all of his hard work had been for nothing. I tried my best to comfort and console him, and told him that I’d stand behind him no matter what decisions he made for the future of his education.

Freddie’s birthday was on September 5th, and Brian and I both half expected to be invited to his and Mary’s royal residence for some sort of a celebration to commemorate his special day, but surprisingly, we got word that he and Mary planned on taking a romantic trip up to England’s Lake District for the occasion instead. This meant that the guys were able to take a week or so off from the studio, and Brian and I finally had a bit of quiet time together. We decided to do all the touristy things that I hadn’t had a chance to do since arriving in England eight months before, and went to places like the Tower of London, Westminster Abbey, and the Victoria and Albert Museum. We had a blast and took more photos to add to our growing collection. It made me wish very much that we had made a point of doing it sooner.

By the beginning of October, most of the music had been recorded for Queen’s album, and the guys decided that it was time to have someone take some professional, or at least, semi-professional, photographs of them for the album cover. Unbeknownst to me, Roger’s friend Doug, whom I’d spent ten days with at camp, was actually a fledgling photographer, and agreed to come up to London to take some group shots for the guys. Freddie decided that his flat, filled with all of it’s lovely Biba and Kensington Market items, would make the perfect backdrop for the photo session, and therefore everyone was summoned to his place on Saturday, October 14th for the all important occasion.

Freddie had instructed the guys to wear something that they usually wore on stage so that they would appear in the photos much as they did at one of their live shows. Keeping this in mind, Brian decided to wear his black velvet bell-bottoms, boots, a black long sleeved t-shirt, and the black jacket Freddie had given him with the fake fur collar. Freddie had also vehemently instructed Brian to shave off his beard and mustache as well, which Brian and I were a little sad about since we had both grown so fond of his facial hair. But, we knew it would have to go eventually, so, clean-shaven Brian was as we made our way over to Freddie’s place for the photo session.

Freddie’s living room was completely decked out for the occasion when we got there. Mountains of boutique pillows were strewn all around the floor, scented candles were lit on every table and shelf around the room, and bouquets of fresh marigolds along with bowls brimming with green grapes and other assorted fruits added the finishing touches. Freddie himself was resplendent in white satin pants, a bright purple tank top, and a matching white jacket with purple embroidered leaves gracing the hem and sleeves. Soon Roger and John showed up together with Doug in tow. Roger was wearing an outfit that I’d seen the members of Queen pass around amongst themselves many times, which consisted of black pants, a black tank top with a silver Oriental design around the neck and a matching black jacket with a white embroidered flowers. John was also wearing a familiar outfit, consisting of black satin pants, a black and white striped v-neck sweater and a black jacket with silver music notes pinned to the lapel.

Freddie offered everyone a beer, and Mary and I tried our best to keep out of the way by staying in the kitchen, where we would still have a bird’s eye view of the proceedings in the living room. Doug set up his camera and lights as all the guys took turns running into Freddie’s bathroom to check their hair in the mirror. Mary and I laughed at the four of them, saying that they were worse than girls, but when Freddie suggested that they all powder their noses with one of Mary’s compacts to eliminate shine, I thought that was going a bit too far. Soon each of them was emerging from the bathroom with not only powder on their faces, but a bit of eyeliner and light colored lipstick on as well.

“Oh my God! Are you kidding me?!” I wailed, clutching at my sides, as I walked out of the kitchen momentarily and caught sight of my boyfriend wearing almost as much make up as I was.

“Is it too much?” Brian asked me in a worried voice. He immediately turned to Freddie and said, “I told you it was too much!”

“Nonsense darling!” Freddie exclaimed, waving away Brian’s concern. “This is what all the glam bands are doing these days!”

“Glam bands?!” I laughed. “Who do you guys think you are, T-Rex?”

“Of course not,” Freddie said with a sneer. “We’re going to be much bigger than them!”

I just rolled my eyes and took a long swig of my beer as I wandered back into the kitchen. Mary, for once, was dressed very casually, and it struck me that Mary and I, wearing our t-shirts and jeans and knocking back a beer apiece, were more manly than our boyfriends and their band mates all put together in that moment. There was definitely something wrong with the whole picture somehow.

Once the equipment was set up and ready, Doug started taking a few candid shots of the guys just standing around laughing and chatting while Freddie decided exactly how he wanted everyone to pose. He procured a large purple ostrich plume from his collection and told the others that they were going to use it as a prop. He handed it to Roger first, who was more than eager to have his picture taken. Roger waved the feather in the air as Doug began clicking off shots, and then clenched the feather between his teeth in what appeared to be his version of an old time Hollywood swashbuckler. Freddie posed with the feather tossed casually over his shoulder, while John simply hid behind it, peeking at the camera with only one eye. My poor darling Brian looked the stiffest and shyest of all though. Freddie had given Brian his white jacket to wear, over which Brian had draped his long black coat. Brian tried to look as casual as he possibly could as he tossed the feather carelessly over one shoulder and propped a foot up on a tiny white stool, but it was no use. He looked wooden and self-conscious, and I found my heart aching a little for him as he tried so hard to pose for the camera.

Once everyone had a couple more beers in them they started to loosen up a little, and the pictures got sillier as the day went on. Before long Doug was taking shots of Roger sniffing the marigolds, Freddie posing with his teddy bear and John wearing a large top hat covered in flowers. Probably one of Freddie’s Kensington Market acquisitions, I had no doubt. They decided to do some group shots of all the guys clustered around Freddie’s red striped chair, and posed Roger in the chair itself while Freddie, Brian and John sat on the floor in front of him. Doug took dozens of shots of the guys playing with the feather, draping bits of fabric over themselves, eating the grapes out of the bowl, etc. They continually kept swapping their clothes just like little girls to achieve a variety of looks, with Freddie wearing Roger’s jacket, John wearing Freddie’s jacket and Roger wearing no jacket, or in some of the shots, no shirt at all. Modesty had never been one of Roger’s strong suits.

Finally, after a couple of hours, Doug determined that he had enough to go off of, and started tearing down his equipment. Mary and I, meanwhile, had decided from our post in the kitchen that once the whole photo session was over, that our guys needed to get into the bathroom immediately and wash off every ounce of make up they had on. There was just something innately wrong about a guy looking prettier than his girlfriend, and we both wanted the situation remedied as soon as possible.

Despite the fact that the guys were being extra silly and vain for the camera though, I had to admit that it did seem pretty remarkable that I was witnessing photographs being taken that might one day be seen by hundreds of thousands of people, if not millions. If and when these guys of mine finally made it big, it would be incredible to say that I’d been there to watch how it all began.

Doug ended up sticking around London for a few days, staying with Roger, as we all waited with baited breath for the photos to be developed. Once they were ready, we all convened at Freddie’s once more to have a look, and laughed uncontrollably at some of the poses. Most of the shots, however, were truly fantastic, and stood out right away as something that could be used for their album cover, particularly the back cover, where Brian and Freddie wanted to make a collage of various photos representing the band over the last couple of years.

In the end, all the guys picked out their favorites of Doug’s shots, Freddie asking repeatedly if he looked gorgeous enough in all the ones of himself, and they added those to a mountain of older photos that each of the guys had brought from home. These included shots of the guys playing live, old photos of Brian wearing a penguin costume, Roger standing in a field in Cornwall, etc., and it was decided that Brian and Freddie would be in charge of the arduous task of sorting through all the pictures, cutting them all into the desired shapes and sizes and piecing them together to form the collage.

Freddie stopped by our place for a bit over the next couple of days after closing his market stall for the night so that he and Brian could work on the project, but they were both so meticulous and had such strong ideas over the way that the whole thing should look, that it ended up taking much longer than they thought it would.

Freddie finally decided that the whole band needed to sit down together for an entire afternoon in order to get the thing finished, and made plans to close the stall at Kensington Market a few hours early so everyone could meet up at our place and work on the project together. Unfortunately, the day that he wanted to come by was also the same day that Brian and I had plans to purchase the plane tickets for our trip to America, which was rapidly approaching. We tried to put Freddie off for just one day, but of course, once Freddie had his mind set on something, he generally would not be abated. This meant that I had to skip school that particular morning in order to make time for everything, which was something that I could ill afford to do since I was going to be missing several days in November as it was. Because my mom had offered to pay for our plane tickets, we decided that the easiest way to get the money from her was to have her wire it in to our bank account, so Brian and I got up fairly early and headed to the bank to see if the money had arrived. Thankfully it had. Once we had that in hand, it was off to the travel agent to book our trip.

With the Christmas season only a couple months away, there seemed to be lots of other people at the travel agency booking their trips as well, which meant that Brian and I weren’t able to get in and out of the place as quickly as we’d hoped. After all was said and done though, we held plane tickets for a Pan Am 747 bound for San Francisco from London’s Heathrow Airport on November 17th, along with additional tickets for a little United puddle-jumper that would take us on to Fresno. Our return tickets were similar and dated for November 27th, giving us a full ten days in the States.

We were both so excited, and chattered on endlessly all the way home about the things we needed to buy and pack for the trip. Brian was convinced that none of his clothes were good enough to meet my parents in, even though I told him that everything he owned was perfectly fine.

“Didn’t you tell me several months ago that all I needed to do in order to make a good impression on your parents was to just be myself?” I asked Brian teasingly as we drove home from the travel agency.

“Yeah, but that was different,” Brian argued. “I knew my parents would love you. Your parents are probably going to think that I’m just some long haired guitar playing weirdo who’s trying to take their daughter from them.”

I had to laugh at his description of himself. “My mom will love you,” I said. “So I’m not worried about her. Now my dad…”

“Oh God, your dad’s going to hate me, isn’t he?” Brian interrupted.

“He’s not going to hate you,” I laughed. “My dad is just the type of guy who likes to grumble and gripe about everything and everyone, so take whatever he says with a large grin of salt and you’ll be fine.”

When we got home, we found a very impatient Freddie, Roger and John waiting for us in the coffee shop downstairs. We’d barely emerged from Brian’s car when Freddie sauntered out of the shop, Roger and John right behind him, demanding to know where we’d been.

“Fred, I told you, Carrie and I had some errands to run this morning,” Brian replied, shutting his car door with a snap.

“Well what on earth was so important that you had to keep us waiting, especially when Roger and I closed the stall early and everything?” Freddie asked.

“Freddie, believe it or not, the sun doesn’t rise and set around your schedule,” Brian argued.

“Yes, and I’ll have you know that I had to stay home from school today, just to accommodate you,” I added. “So don’t think that you’re the only one who’s had to make concessions.”

“Yes, but we agreed to meet up at noon, and it’s now…” Freddie said, reaching for Roger’s arm to look at his wristwatch. “…Almost a quarter past! Where on earth have you been all morning?”

“Why don’t we go upstairs and we’ll tell you all about it,” Brian suggested.

“Well this sounds serious,” Freddie said, pausing at the door leading inside of our building as Brian opened it for him. “What have you two done?”

“They’re being secretive about something,” Roger agreed. “Oh my God, they went to the local registry office and got married this morning!” 

“Do you honestly think we’d do something like that without inviting the three of you?” Brian asked incredulously as we walked up the stairs to our flat.

“I don’t know,” Roger replied with a crooked grin. “You two _are_ the ducks... Who knows what kinds of bizarre things you get up to when we’re not around.”

We all went inside and closed the door, blocking out the late October chill that had crept into the stairway of the building. Everyone peeled off their coats and scarves and laid them on the kitchen table before going into the living room to take a seat.

“So, if you weren’t getting married, then what were you two up to this morning?” Freddie asked.

“Well,” Brian began, exchanging a quick glance with me, “I’ve been meaning to tell the three of you this for a while, but it seems like every time we’re together we’ve got more pressing issues to deal with.”

Freddie, Roger and John all scowled slightly at Brian, as if he was about to deliver some bad news to them.

“It’s nothing bad, mind you,” Brian went on, seeing the looks on their faces. “It’s actually quite exciting for Carrie and me.”

Brian, who was sitting next to me on the couch, wrapped an arm around my shoulders lovingly as he flashed me a big smile.

“Holy fuck!” Roger interjected. “Is Carrie pregnant?!”

“No she’s not pregnant!” Brian replied adamantly, looking at Roger as though he’d gone mad. “What the hell is wrong with you??”

“I don’t know!” Roger argued. “It was the way you wrapped your arm around her all protective like!”

“I have to admit, I was thinking the same thing, darling,” Freddie agreed.

“Why?!” I suddenly exclaimed. “Do I look pregnant??”

“You don’t look pregnant,” Brian said, patting me on the leg reassuringly before turning back to his friends. “And you’re completely mental, both of you!” Brian admonished. “Our news, is that we’re going to the States to visit Carrie’s parents.”

“What?!” all three of the others said almost in unison.

“You’re going to America?” Roger asked, clearly shocked by Brian’s news.

“For how long?” Freddie demanded.

“Just for their Thanksgiving holiday,” Brian answered. “About ten days in all, from the 17th to the 27th of November.” 

“Well, you can’t just…I mean…Did it ever occur to you to clear this with the rest of the band before you made plans?!” Freddie spluttered.

“Not really, considering that I already know that we don’t have any shows coming up, and the album is pretty much finished,” Brian replied. “And I don’t seem to recall you clearing your little birthday trip to the Lake District with _me_ before going.”

“Well, what if we’re offered a gig and you’re not here?” Freddie shot back, completely unperturbed by Brian’s Lake District argument. “Or what if we’re offered a record deal and you’re not here for us to consult with?”

“Fellas, I don’t think the world isn’t going to crumble if I spend ten days in Fresno with my girlfriend and her folks,” Brian reassured them.

“So, you’re actually going to see the famous Fresno that we’ve all heard so much about,” Roger commented, shaking his head slightly.

“I am indeed,” Brian replied with a smile.

“Are you two going anywhere else while you’re in the States?” John asked.

“I don’t know,” Brian said, looking at me thoughtfully. “We’ve talked about it a bit.”

“I’m hoping that there will be time to go to Disneyland if nothing else,” I answered.

“Disneyland? Really?” John asked excitedly. “Is it far from Fresno?”

“Not too far,” I said. “About a 4 ½ hour drive.”

“4 ½ hours?!” John exclaimed. “That’s extremely far!”

“By English standards, yes,” I laughed. “By California standards that’s practically a day trip.”

“A day trip?” Freddie echoed. “You Americans are insane.”

“America’s a big place,” I shrugged. “If you’re not willing to spend some time behind the wheel of a car, then you’re never going to see anything.”

“I can’t believe you’re going to America, Bri,” Roger said in disbelief, still shaking his head. “I know it’s none of my business, but how are you paying for it?”

“Carrie’s parents have paid for our plane tickets,” Brian confessed. “But I’ll pay them back for mine as soon as I have the money.”

“How did they pay for them?” Freddie asked. “They didn’t send that much money through the post, did they?”

“Oh, no,” I answered. “My mom wired the money into our bank account, and we used that to go to a travel agent and book the trip. In fact, that’s what took so long this morning. There were tons of other people booking trips, and the lady that was looking up all of our flights took forever.”

“So what kinds of fabulous gifts are you going to bring us from America?” Freddie grinned, clearly softening to the prospect of Brian and me being gone for a while.

“Oh, I’m sure we can find _something_ for each of you,” I smiled.

“If you don’t bring me some Fresno raisins, then I’m going to be very upset,” Roger teased, flashing me a crooked grin.

“I promise to bring you some raisins,” I laughed.

The five of us spent the rest of the afternoon talking about the trip, munching on some delivered pizza and finishing the collage one picture at a time. We all agreed that it looked fantastic when all was said and done, and I even got to throw in one of the pictures that I had taken of Brian in our flat while he still had his beard.

The one area that the guys couldn’t seem to agree on was the picture for the front cover of the album. Freddie liked one of the group shots taken by Doug, and told the others that he thought it would look nice done in sepia tones, which would give it an old Victorian look. Brian wasn’t convinced though. He had in mind something a little more psychedelic, and wanted to see if Doug could do an experiment with colored plastic film over his camera lens while he took another picture of the band. Since they still didn’t have a record deal, they all agreed that there was still time to play around with the concept, and that perhaps they could invite Doug to take some additional shots at their next live show, whenever that might be.

In the meantime, Brian and I had a big trip to start getting ready for. Knowing how obsessive compulsive we both are, it was hardly surprising that we each made several lists of things we had to do before we left, or things that we had to remember to pack or buy for the trip. 

Since Brian was so concerned about his wardrobe, we went shopping on the last Saturday in October, heading to popular Kensington High Street to shop at Derry & Toms and Barkers. I had never been shopping for clothes with Brian before, and I had to admit, I had no idea how picky he could be when it came to clothing. We had to search through rack after rack of shirts before he was satisfied with his choices of a black and white striped sweater, a black long-sleeved Henley and a white button-down-the-front shirt that looked much like a white button-down-the-front shirt that he already owned. I asked him why he always chose black and white for everything he wore, and he admitted to me that he had trouble putting outfits together, and as long as everything was black and white, then he never had trouble matching his clothes. I looked at the rack where he had picked up the white shirt and found an identical one in a very pretty light blue, and told him that I thought he should get it as well. Immediately I could see the wheels turning in his head, wondering what he would wear with it, and I assured him that it would go perfectly with any of his black pants or jeans.

Once that hurdle was crossed, we moved on to pants, and it became clear relatively quickly how difficult it was to find pants that were both long enough for Brian’s legs, yet small enough around the waist for his slender form. In the end, he only found a pair of black bell-bottoms with a faint grey plaid pattern that he liked and which actually fit him. Add to all this a nice new pair of charcoal grey leather boots, and of course, all the other decent clothes he had at home already, and he was pretty well-stocked for the trip.

“Are you sure all these things will be suitable for the weather in California?” Brian asked me for at least the third time since we’d been out shopping, as we walked down the sidewalk toward Kensington Market to pop in and say hi to Freddie and Roger.

“I’m positive,” I reassured him. “I told you, the weather is very changeable in November in California. It could be a bit warm on some days and chilly or rainy on others, so we’ll just have to take a variety of clothes. The best thing to do is to dress in layers so that you can either take off or put on clothes depending on whether you’re warm or cold.”

“That makes sense I guess,” Brian said.

We made our way up to Freddie and Roger’s stall, and Freddie insisted on inspecting everything that Brian bought in order to see whether or not it met with his approval. The plaid pants, boots and black Henley he liked, but he told Brian that he already had enough button-down-the-front shirts to choke a horse, therefore he shouldn’t have gotten more. The color of the blue one I picked out, though, he admitted was nice.

We stuck around long enough to get a quick cup of tea with Freddie and Roger on the ground floor of the market, and then made our excuses, saying that we had a million things to do to once we got home. On our way out, though, I saw a mannequin in one of the stalls sporting a pair of brown corduroy bell-bottoms, an off-white knitted poncho and a matching knitted hat that I absolutely fell in love with, and I knew that I’d just found the outfit that I would wear on the flight to California.

The clothes had now been checked off of our to-do list, but there were plenty of other things that we needed to buy as well, like film and batteries, toiletries, and gifts to take to my mom and dad. I wanted to get them something traditionally English, so Brian and I went to the original Twinings tea shop on the Strand, a place that Jane Austen herself had once shopped at, and bought several different varieties of tea. After that, we took a trip to Fortnum and Mason where I found a tin of English biscuits, some toffee for my dad and a small teapot in the shape of a classic thatched roof cottage for my mom. I took everything home, made up a basket filled with all the items we’d purchased, and was able to cross gifts off of our shopping list.

There was also the issue of our little baby Harold to worry about. Thankfully Brian’s parents had agreed to babysit him for us while we were gone, but we did have to buy a cat carrier to get him to their house and enough cat food that would last for the duration of our trip. I also mentioned to Brian that I thought we should have some American money to take with us in case we needed to buy anything once we landed. We made another trip to the bank and cashed in about twenty pounds for American dollars, hoping that that would get us by at least for a little while once we were in the States.

Brian admitted that he was a bit worried about our place being empty with no one to look after it for ten whole days, and since Roger was eventually going to live in our flat anyway, Brian made him a new key and asked him if he wouldn’t mind checking in from time to time. I wasn’t sure what worried me more, the place being empty, or being left in Roger’s care. 

I also talked with my professors at school about the fact that I’d be leaving, and while they weren’t terribly happy, they understood that Thanksgiving was kind of a big deal in my country, and agreed to give me that week’s assignments to work on during the trip.

Soon everything was coming together. The day of the trip was quickly approaching, and slowly but surely Brian and I were packing up all the necessities into suitcases and carry-on bags, including lots of pictures from the past few months, so that my parents could catch up on what I’d been doing with my life since I’d been away from home. Brian and I both had all of our camera gear loaded up and ready to go, along with books, my schoolwork, my knitting, paper tablets and pens, snacks, and anything else we could think of that we might need on the long flight.

All that we needed now was for November 17th to arrive…


	50. Chapter 50

Between nerves and excitement, Brian and I barely got any sleep the night before we left on our trip. He was up and down half the night, remembering something or other that he’d forgotten to pack, and must have asked me two or three times at least if the plane tickets and passports were in my purse and ready to go.

“Yes, sweetheart, they are,” I mumbled, half asleep.

By early morning, we were both up and running around the flat in a near panic. We got up and showered, shaved and brushed our teeth in record time. We were both dressed in a flash - me with my new Kensington Market ensemble and Brian with his new plaid pants, white button-down shirt, grey boots, and his black blazer that he always wore. I put on my make-up quickly, spritzed on a bit of perfume, and I had to admit that Brian and I looked more than sophisticated enough for a trip on a posh Pan American airline.

Then came the chaos of making sure that we had everything packed and ready to go. Brian and I both got out our lists, double-checking each one twice. Clothes – check. Toiletries – check. Gift basket for my parents – check. Carry on bags loaded and ready to go – check. Airline tickets, passports and money in my purse – check, check, check. We were happy to find that everything seemed to be in order. All that was left was to pack up the cat and all his food, make sure everything was turned off, locked up and put away, and we were good to go.

Brian hauled everything down to the car piece by piece while I put Harold in the little wooden cat carrier that we’d purchased and packed up his food. We gave the flat one last glance, made sure everything was okay, and off we went. We drove to Brian’s parent’s house in Feltham with Harold crying the entire way, making me feel terrible about the fact that he was going to have to live without us for the next ten days. Once we’d fought all the morning traffic and finally arrived, Brian and his dad set about moving all of our luggage from Brian’s car to his dad’s, since his parents were going to be taking us to the airport and seeing us off. Meanwhile, I took the cat inside the house and explained his feeding schedule to Ruth, and made sure that she knew that he was an indoor only kitty. She promised me that he would be well cared for, and I gave him lots of hugs and kisses before saying goodbye.

Brian and I climbed into the backseat of his parents’ Ford while his mom and dad sat in the front for the few minutes that it took us to get to Heathrow airport. There were definitely a few perks with having a boyfriend whose parents practically lived right around the corner from one of the largest airports in the world!

Harold parked in one of the short term parking lots, and between him, Brian and me, we hauled everything out of the trunk and into the air terminal. We made it through baggage check and customs relatively unscathed, and found the gate that our flight was leaving from. Brian and I were both utterly shocked to see Roger, Freddie, Mary and John all there at the gate, waiting to say goodbye to us.

“What are you lot doing here?” Brian smiled.

“You didn’t think we’d let you leave without saying goodbye, did you?” Freddie grinned.

“This is quite a surprise,” Brian laughed.

“It was very good of you all to come and see Brian and Carrie off,” Harold smiled at our little ragtag group of friends as he patted his son on the back genially.

“Aw, it’s the least we could do,” Roger said with a crooked grin. “Besides, we wanted to tell him not to go falling in love with America and never want to come back. We can’t replace him in the band, or the guitar the two of you made!”

“Oh goodness!” Ruth laughed. “Don’t go putting ideas in his head Roger!”

“Brian, you make sure that you tell Carrie’s parents that you’re going to pay back every penny that they spent on that plane ticket for you,” Harold told his son for the umpteenth time as he waggled a finger in his direction.

“Yes, I know dad, we’ve been over this…” Brian sighed.

“Don’t get flippant,” Harold admonished. “You know I don’t like the fact that they paid for your trip.”

“Harold, it really is my fault,” I chimed in. “Brian didn’t want them to pay for him either, but I wouldn’t go home without him.”

“Well, just the same…” Harold said. 

“Dad, I promise you, it’s the first thing I intend to tell Carrie’s mum and dad when we get there,” Brian assured him.

“Both of you make sure that you take lots and lots of photos, all right?” Ruth told us. “I want to see everything and every place you go while you’re there.”

“Yes, bring back lots of photos,” Mary agreed.

“We will, we will,” Brian smiled.

“Carrie, please be sure to tell your mum and dad thank you for letting Brian stay at their house,” Ruth said to me. “It really is very kind of them to invite him over.”

“Oh, I will,” I smiled. “But believe me, they’re happy to have him.”

“So, what will you be doing for this Thanksgiving of yours anyway?” Harold asked me, which started a whole question and answer session about American holiday traditions while we were waiting for the plane to start boarding.

Before long the announcement came that Pan American flight 519 bound for San Francisco was now boarding. Brian hugged both of his parents tight and kissed his mom on the cheek, reassuring her that he would be fine. Harold and Ruth hugged me as well, telling me to remind Brian to call as soon as we arrived, as long as it was okay with my parents. I assured them that we would call as soon as we got there, and thanked them again for taking care of the cat while we were gone.

Another round of hugs and handshakes came from Roger, Freddie and the others, who all wished us a safe journey and a good holiday, and then it was time to head out the door, out into the chilly London air to climb the steps to our plane. We turned and waved one last time from the top of the stairs to everyone watching us at the window, and then suddenly we were in the quiet confined space of the plane, jostling to find our seats along with everybody else. We were fairly close to the airplane’s right wing as we found our seat numbers and sat down, tucking our things away under the seats in front of us, and settling in for what was going to be a very long flight.

“Well, are you ready for this?” I asked Brian, reaching for his hand.

“No turning back now, is there?” Brian smiled. “This is going to be the farthest I’ve ever been from home, you know.”

“I know,” I said, squeezing his hand. “Now you’ll get a taste of how I’ve been feeling for the last ten months.”

“You know, I’m so used to you being a part of my world in London, I forget that you must get homesick sometimes,” Brian sympathized.

“Sometimes,” I shrugged. “But as long as I’ve got you, then I’m okay.”

“Have I told you lately that I love you, Mrs. May?” Brian grinned.

“No you haven’t, Mr. May,” I smiled.

“Well then, I guess it’s long overdue. I love you.”

“I love you too,” I said, reaching over to give him a quick kiss.

Soon we were taxiing down the runway, the nose of the plane lifting up into the air, as the ground disappeared underneath us. I held my breath and held on tight to Brian’s hand as I said a little prayer under my breath that the giant tin can that we were sitting in would get us all the way to San Francisco in one piece.

The flight itself was ridiculously long and boring with little to keep Brian and me entertained for twelve grueling hours. We made a deal before we’d left home that we would each read the other person’s favorite book during the flight so that we’d have something to chat about. This meant that I was now reading C.S. Lewis’ _Out of The Silent Planet,_ and Brian was reading Jane Austen’s _Pride and Prejudice._ Before long I found myself asking him about the characters Devine and Weston, and what they wanted with the main character, Ransom.

“You’ll just have to read on and see,” Brian teased.

“Ugh! Fine!” I sighed, returning to the story once more.

“Is Mrs. Bennet meant to be obnoxious? Or was she normal for a mother of 150 years ago?” Brian asked me, closing his copy of _Pride and Prejudice_ momentarily.

“A bit of both actually,” I replied. “She was supposed to have a want of propriety for sure, but I think the thing that most modern readers find so annoying about her is her obsession with getting her daughters married.”

“Exactly,” Brian agreed. “All she’s talked about so far is how much money all the eligible men in their neighborhood make.”

“Yes, but, remember,” I added, “she has five daughters and her husband’s estate is entailed away from the family line. If she doesn’t get at least one or two of those girls suitably married, the whole family is going to be in a lot of trouble. So it’s her job to scout the neighborhood for rich men and see to it that her daughters get to meet them.”

“I suppose so,” Brian said, shaking his head slightly. “She’s still obnoxious though.”

Our conversations continued on like this for about three hours or so, when we finally got bored and had to get up and stretch for a bit and make use of the bathrooms. Luckily the stewardesses were in the process of getting everybody’s lunch to them, so that gave us something to focus on for about 30 or 40 minutes, then it was back to boredom once again. Brian said that he was going to try and sleep for a bit, since he hadn’t slept much the night before, and the next thing I knew, his head was resting against the inside of the plane near the window, and he was out. 

I got out my knitting and decided to work on that for a while since I was nearly done with Brian’s scarf. Working at the silly thing only sporadically for the last few months, it took me much longer to finish up than I thought it would. Suddenly, the little old lady that was sitting to my left, who was apparently from Dublin and had one of the thickest Irish accents I’d ever heard, started asking me all about the scarf, who it was for, how long I’d been working on it, etc., etc. She wanted to know all about where I was from, whether or not Brian was my husband, where we were going and why, and so on and so on. I was slightly annoyed with having to socialize with a stranger at first, but I realized that by the time Brian woke up again, she’d managed to help me kill two more hours, and I’d finished Brian’s scarf while we were talking.

On and on the flight went, with Brian and I talking or reading, or playing games of tic-tac-toe or hangman on the tablet we’d brought. I tried working on my homework for a bit, but accomplished very little. There were just too many distractions on the plane. After a while it was dinnertime, and we were served an elaborate meal of chicken, rice, salad and fresh baked rolls. As airline food went, I had to admit, it wasn’t bad.

Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, I could feel the plane slowly start to descend. 

“What do you reckon?” Brian asked me, pointing out the window. “Recognize where we are?”

“Let’s see…” I said, leaning over him to peek out the tiny window. “Well, that looks like the Sierra Nevadas to me, so we’re getting close.”

“Wow, the Sierra Nevada Mountains,” Brian breathed. “There’s something I never thought I’d see.”

“Maybe we could go to Yosemite while we’re here,” I said.

“Seriously?” Brian asked. “That would be amazing. How far is that from Fresno?”

“Only a couple hours,” I replied.

“You know, it occurs to me that you never talk in miles or distance, always in the amount of time it takes to get somewhere,” Brian laughed.

“I do, don’t I?” I questioned. “Hmm, maybe it’s an American thing.”

Before long the plane was banking hard and flying lower and lower, until the edge of the Pacific Ocean came into view and the tires were screeching onto the tarmac.

“Well, here we are in San Francisco,” I grinned, linking my arm through Brian’s as he eagerly looked out the window at his surroundings.

“Will we be able to see any landmarks from here, like the Golden Gate Bridge?” Brian asked me.

“Mm, I don’t think so, babe,” I said. “We’re too far south for that.”

“Hmm,” Brian mumbled in a disappointed tone, as he continued to take in the airport or anything of interest that his eyes could land on.

“Well, one flight down, and one to go,” I said as we pulled up to the gate and started gathering our things.

“The next flight isn’t very long though, right?” Brian asked hopefully as we made our way to the front of the plane single file.

“No, less than an hour once we take off,” I replied.

We had about an hour to stretch and walk around before our little United plane left for Fresno, so we wandered around the airport, looking at all the shops and restaurants, taking everything in. Brian was like a kid on Christmas morning as he looked through racks of t-shirts in the gift shops all emblazoned with SAN FRANCISCO in big letters. One in particular caught his eye. It was a white baseball jersey type of shirt with black ¾ length raglan sleeves and San Francisco written on the front in orange, representing the colors of the San Francisco Giants baseball team. He decided on the spot that he had to have one. He found his size and we took it to the register where it seemed very strange to be paying for something in U.S. dollars once again. It was the first time I hadn’t had to use pounds in nearly a year. 

We walked out a few minutes later with Brian’s new shirt, which he couldn’t wait to try on, and made our way to the United gate where our plane would be taking off shortly.

They announced our flight, and Brian got a little nervous as we walked out across the pavement to a small commuter plane that he nearly had to bend in half just to walk down the aisle of.

“We’re going to be flying in this?” he asked me in a worried tone once we’d sat down.

“It’s going to be fine,” I laughed, patting him on the thigh. “I flew out of Fresno in one of these when I came to England.”

“You’re small though,” Brian said. “I feel like I’ve been folded into a sardine tin.”

“You wanna trade places with me?” I asked. There were only two seats in each row on either side of the plane, and Brian had the window seat while I was sitting by the aisle. “You could stretch your legs out in the aisle.”

“Yeah, that might be best,” Brian replied. “You won’t mind?”

“Not at all,” I said, shaking my head. “In fact, this way I can see Fresno as we’re flying down into it.”

“Would you have rather had the window seat on the other flight?” Brian asked. “I didn’t even bother to ask you, did I?”

“No, no, no,” I answered quickly. “The seat I had was fine. I wanted you to have the window seat so you could see America as we were flying over it.”

There was a middle-aged man in a shirt and tie standing just in front of us, stuffing a small briefcase into an overhead bin, as he listened to our conversation.

“You two aren’t married yet I take it,” he smiled at us.

Brian and I both looked up at him, slightly taken aback.

“Why do you say that?” I laughed.

“Because no married couple in the world is as nice to each other as you two are,” he replied. “How long have you been together?”

“About seven months,” Brian answered.

“Oh yeah, give it time,” the man said with a knowing look. “Soon you’ll be fighting tooth and nail the way my wife and I always do.”

The man took his seat in the row just in front of us, and Brian and I looked at each other and laughed, as we fastened our seatbelts and reached for each other’s hand.

Within the hour we were gliding down into the Central Valley, flying over a patchwork quilt of orchards, barren fields and grape vineyards. I looked eagerly out the window trying to find a sign of anything that I might recognize. It wasn’t until we were right over the top of Fresno that I saw the new Fashion Fair mall and Starlight Drive-In beneath us and pointed them out to Brian.

“Drive-in?” Brian asked. “Are those movie screens?”

“Uh-huh. It’s a drive-in movie theatre,” I explained. “You park your car, hook a speaker to your window, and sit there and watch a movie.”

“Unbelievable,” Brian said, shaking his head. “I’ve never seen such a thing.”

“We’ll have to see a movie at Sunnyside Drive-In while we’re here. It’s closer to my house.”

Within seconds we were bouncing down the runway at the tiny Fresno Air Terminal, pulling up to the end of the long hallway that led into the interior of the airport. We gathered our things, and Brian bumped his head on the ceiling of the plane, forgetting how low it was. We walked down the shallow steps leading to the tarmac below, and there were my parents, waiting with big smiles for us just inside the open hallway. 

My eyes instantly welled up with tears as I turned to Brian and said excitedly, “That’s my mom and dad right there!”

I ran through the little doorway into the hall and threw my arms open wide as my mom did the same. We hugged each other tight, crying the whole time, as Brian meandered over to stand beside me. I let go of my mom and reached for my dad, giving him a big hug as well, before I introduced Brian to them both.

“Mom, Dad, I’d like you to meet Brian,” I said with a proud smile, wiping the tears from my cheeks. “Brian, this is my mom, Sylvia, and my dad, Chuck.”

“Very nice to meet you,” Brian said, extending his hand to my dad.

“Oh, it’s so nice to finally meet you Brian,” my mom gushed as she reached out to give him a hug. With my mom being only about 5’1”, Brian had to practically bend in half to wrap his arms around her. 

“It’s very nice to meet you too, especially after all of our telephone conversations,” Brian smiled, straightening back up again.

“Oh, I know!” my mom exclaimed enthusiastically. She looked at me and said, “Boy, he’s a tall drink of water, isn’t he?”

“I told you he was tall,” I grinned. Already my parents were embarrassing me.

“How tall are you?” my mom asked Brian.

“Um, about 6’2””, Brian replied.

“My goodness, and look at that hair!” my mom went on, reaching up to touch Brian’s curls. “Are those all natural curls?”

“Oh yes,” Brian smiled, bending his head slightly so that my mom could reach him better. “I certainly wouldn’t pay someone to make my hair look like this.”

“Oh he’s funny,” my mom laughed as she looked over at me.

I had to admit, I’d never really realized how loud and silly us Americans could sound until I’d spent nearly a year with relatively quiet and sedate Englishmen. I could only imagine what Brian must be thinking, especially after he’d been reading _Pride and Prejudice_ on the plane and telling me how obnoxious Mrs. Bennet was. I hoped to God that he wasn’t seeing my mom as a Mrs. Bennet!

“Well, we’d better go find their suitcases so they can get home and rest,” my dad said, clearly becoming impatient to leave.

We made our way through the airport, jigging and jogging until we reached the baggage claim area, with my mom asking Brian and me all about our flight the entire way. We stood around the carrousel that our bags were supposed to come out on and my mom hugged me again, telling me how happy she was that I was home.

Soon the metal slats on the baggage carrousel sprung into motion, and suitcases of all shapes and sizes started making their way around toward us.

“Do you see yours yet?” my dad asked.

“Uh, I think that’s them just coming around now,” Brian replied. He and my dad reached for our suitcases as they got closer, and soon we had everything together and were heading out the door to the parking lot and my parents’ white Chevy Impala. We loaded everything into the trunk and climbed into the backseat, Brian feeling slightly disoriented with the steering wheel being on the opposite side of the car.

“I know, it’s on the proper side now,” I teased.

“No, no, it’s on the wrong side,” Brian replied, shaking his head.

“That’s cause you English people don’t know how to drive,” my dad joked as he backed out of the parking space.

Brian just looked at me, unsure of whether my dad was joking or not, and I just laughed and said, “That’s just my dad trying to be funny.”

“So Brian,” my mom began, as we headed out of the airport and in the direction of our house. “Is this the first time you’ve been to America?”

“It is,” Brian replied. “In fact, this is the farthest I’ve ever been from home.”

“So what do you think so far?” my mom asked.

“So far it’s amazing. I can’t wait to see more,” Brian answered. 

“Do we sound funny to you?” my mom smiled.

“A bit,” Brian confessed. “Your accents seem slightly different than Carrie’s for some reason.”

“That’s because Carrie sounds English now,” my dad said.

“No I don’t,” I argued.

“You know, compared to your parents, you almost do,” Brian said. “Are their accents the same as what yours used to sound like?”

“I still do sound like that!” I exclaimed. “You’re all mad.”

“Boy, you really have lost your accent,” my mom chimed in.

“Well, being back in California for ten days should fix that,” I said.

Like Brian, I grew up very near my town’s airport, so it was only a matter of minutes before we were pulling into the driveway of 4860 east Leisure Avenue and unloading all of our things.

“My car!” I exclaimed, running across the driveway to throw my arms around my beautiful midnight blue Camaro.

“Yeah, a guy offered me a thousand bucks for it, so I think I’m going to sell it,” my dad teased as he walked past me with my suitcase in his hands.

“Don’t even joke about something like that,” I chided.

“Do you want me to just shut the boot then?” Brian asked my mom, as he pulled out the last of our things.

“Do I want you to what?” my mom asked, clearly confused.

“He’s asking you if you want him to close the trunk, mom,” I interpreted.

“Oh!” my mom laughed. “Yes, that’s fine.”

She started walking up the driveway toward the porch with Brian following right behind her. 

“So this is the famous fast car of yours that I’ve heard so much about?” Brian asked as he walked up to me with his suitcase in hand.

“This is her,” I said. “This is my Ana.”

“Ana?” Brian asked.

“Mm-hmm,” I replied. “Look at the license plate.”

“Ah, 562 ANA,” Brian said. “The state of California named your car for you.”

“That they did,” I laughed.

We walked into the house and all the comforts of home washed over me. The dogs were barking and wagging their tails, unsure of whether they should be happy to see me, or upset that I’d brought a stranger into their midst. The cats were either running off down the hall to find a hiding place or looking curiously at us, trying to figure out what exactly was going on, and I realized after not being in the house for a awhile, how much it smelled like cats and dogs. I was a little embarrassed by this, and I hoped that Brian didn’t think any worse of me, or my family, because of it.

“Well, does it feel good to be back home?” my mom asked as we set the suitcases and bags down on the living room floor momentarily.

“It does,” I admitted. 

“The animals are sure happy to see you,” my mom said.

“I see that,” I laughed, reaching down to pet the sea of dogs and cats that had gathered at my feet. 

I looked around, but couldn’t see the one cat that I’d been missing so much.

“Where’s Michie?” I asked.

“Oh she’s around here somewhere,” my mom replied.

Then, as if on cue, my fat fluffy baby came waddling out of the kitchen to see what all the hubbub was about.

“There she is!” I cried. I reached down to pick her up and squeezed her tight before showing her to Brian. “This is Michie.”

“Ah, the famous Michie,” Brian said, reaching out to pet her head.

“Is my room still the same?” I asked my mom.

“No, we rented it out to someone,” my dad interrupted.

“Yes, your room is still the same,” my mom told me. “The bedding probably needs to be changed, but other than that, it’s all ready for you. And the spare room is all ready for Brian.”

If this had been a movie, the sound of a needle scraping across a record would have sounded after my mom’s last comment.

“The spare room?” I asked.

“Yes, I know you two are living together in England, but you know how your dad and I feel about that. So while you’re here, the two of you are going to be in separate rooms,” my mom explained.

“But, mom…” I began. “We’re not children. I can’t sleep without Brian. He’s like my security blanket.”

“Well, for the next ten days you’ll have to get a new security blanket,” my mom said sarcastically.

I just stared at Brian with dumbfounded expression, my mouth hanging slightly open. I honestly hadn’t been expecting to face a situation like this.

“It’ll be okay,” Brian soothed, reaching out to rub my shoulder. “We’ll survive for ten days.”

He might be able to, I thought bitterly, but I was pretty sure that I couldn’t!


	51. Chapter 51

We hauled our things down the hallway toward the front of the house where the bedrooms were located, Brian glancing briefly at all the family photos on the walls as we went, and I showed him to his room before walking across the way to mine. To say that I was disappointed that I couldn’t share my room with Brian was a massive understatement. How on earth was I supposed to go ten days without sharing his bed? I could barely go five minutes when we were in London!

I opened up the door to my old bedroom, and a flood of happy memories greeted me as I walked inside. Everything was just as I’d left it the day I headed for Stanford at the age of 18. Posters and pin-ups of The Beatles, The Monkees, The Dave Clark Five and so many others still graced my walls, the smiling faces of their band members looking down on me as if they were asking where on earth I’d been since my last visit. Photos of my best friend Jennifer and I were still stuck up on the mirror above my dresser, our silly antics forever encapsulated on film for all to see. My old drum set sat gathering a thick layer of dust, my Vox Continental organ was much the same, and I could see why my mom had said that the bedding needed to be changed. It was obvious that it hadn’t been changed since I’d visited for the holidays the year before. When I flopped my suitcase down on top of the bedspread, clouds of dust were sent whooshing into the air, causing me to sneeze at least three times. I prayed to God that Brian’s room wasn’t in the same condition.

I meandered across the hall to see how Brian was getting on, and to see if anything in his room needed to be scrubbed down or washed. I should have known better though. The bedroom that he was staying in was spotless with nice clean bedding, freshly purchased curtains, and the dresser drawers lined with crisp new contact paper. My mom’s old habit of taking care of the men that I brought into the house came rushing back to me in a flash. How many times in the past had my friend Jennifer and I been completely ignored, while our boyfriends were being asked by my mom if they were hungry or needed anything? Too many, was the answer. I guess old habits died hard, I thought to myself, as I looked around at my mom’s shining example of hospitality.

“So what do you think?” I asked Brian, leaning against the doorframe with my arms folded across my chest.

“It’s good,” he replied, reaching into his suitcase to transfer some of his clothes to the dresser across from the bed. “It looks like your mum and dad thought of everything. I can’t believe there’s even a small TV in here.”

I looked around Brian to the top of the dresser where a small 13” TV sat with its faded plastic shell, old-fashioned knobs and rabbit ears sticking up at the top.

“Oh, that’s my brother’s old TV,” I said. “This used to be his room in fact.”

“Really?” Brian asked. “You never talk about your brother and sister much, you know that?”

“Yeah, well, there’s a reason for that…” I said evasively. “I’m glad to see that my mom at least cleaned up the room and got it all ready for you. It’s more than I can say for the state of my old room.”

“Why? What’s wrong with your room?” Brian asked.

“Come here and I’ll show you,” I said, motioning my head toward the door across the way.

I led him across the hall into my room and said, “Ta da! Welcome to my time capsule from 1968. Nothing has changed, including the amount of dust on everything.”

“You have drums, and a Vox organ in your room?” Brian asked, his mouth hanging open slightly as he looked around, taking everything in.

“Yeah,” I smiled. “I never played either of them that much, but once in a while the itch to play something would strike me.”

“You’re very lucky to have been able to have these things growing up, you know,” Brian said as he tinked a fingernail on one of the cymbals to my drum set, sending a cascade of dust over the edge. “I would have given my eye teeth to have had things like this when I was a teenager.”

“I know,” I agreed. “I guess I was a little spoiled.”

“So let’s see who we’ve got on the walls,” Brian grinned as he looked around at all of my posters. “The Beatles, The Monkees, The Dave Clark Five… Really? The Dave Clark Five?”

“What can I say?” I shrugged. “Their keyboardist, Mike Smith, was cute.”

“And I suppose it was Davy Jones for you in The Monkees?” Brian smiled.

“Surprisingly, no,” I answered. “I always had a thing for Mike Nesmith, you know, the one with the green hat.”

“No Rolling Stones? No Who?” Brian asked, still taking everything in.

“Oh God no!” I shuddered. “They’re all ugly.”

Brian looked down at me then, and just stared at me, completely agog.

“I mean, their music is good, don’t get me wrong,” I continued on. “But in order to be one of _my_ bands, you have to be cute as well as talented.”

“Thank God we’ve got Roger in the band,” Brian said sarcastically, shaking his head at my walls. “Otherwise think of all the young teenage girls with discriminating taste that we might lose as fans.”

“Yeah, well, something tells me that Roger won’t be the only one the girls are checking out,” I said, wrapping my arms around Brian’s waist and looking up at him. “I seem to recall that Queen has got a pretty hot guitarist too.”

“Oh yeah?” Brian smiled. “Well maybe you’ll have to put his picture up on your walls beside The Monkees and The Dave Clark Five.”

“Well maybe I’ll just have to do that,” I smirked, reaching up to give him a kiss.

As usual, one kiss led to two, and soon we were standing in the middle of my room, wrapped up in each other’s arms, fingers tangled in each other’s hair, our tongues exploring each other’s mouths.

“Well, have you two unpacked yet?” my mom said loudly from the doorway of my room.

We instantly broke apart, swiping at our mouths with the backs of our hands, looking at my mom very sheepishly. Nothing like reverting from 22 years old back to 15 in the space of half a second.

“No, we’re still working on it,” I answered, as my mom raised an eyebrow our way. I decided to challenge her raised eyebrow with one of my own, and asked, “Hey, how come Brian’s room is all neat and tidy, and mine is an absolute mess?”

“Because, no one was ever allowed in your room, remember?” my mom reminded me. “I figured if I tried to clean it you’d have a cow.”

“Yeah, well…” I stuttered, trying to think of a clever rebuttal. After a bit of soul searching, all I could say was, “Yeah, all right, you may have a point.”

“There’s clean bedding in the linen closet, rags in the kitchen drawer, and spray cleaner under the kitchen sink if you want to spruce the place up,” my mom said.

“Fine,” I sighed. “I’ll take care of it.”

Nothing says welcome home quite like “Here’s a bottle of Windex and a rag, now get to work!”

While Brian finished putting his things away in his nice clean room, I was wiping the tears out of my dust filled eyes, as I changed the bedding in my room, wiped down my dresser, TV, bookshelves, record player, drum set and organ, and vacuumed the floor until I was finally able to breathe once again. Brian finally wandered in after my cleaning spree was done, and sat on my bed while I put away my things. My dresser drawers still had a few old clothes left in them from before I left home, so I relegated those to the bottom drawer, and put all the things I’d brought with me in the top two drawers. Soon everything was in its place and the suitcases were latched up and stowed away in the corner for safekeeping.

Brian and I made our way back down the hallway, gift basket for my parents in hand, as we paused momentarily for Brian to get a longer and better look at the old family photos.

“Who are the naked baby pictures of?” Brian smiled.

“Oh, I can’t even begin to tell you how many times I’ve been embarrassed by those,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s me and my brother and sister.”

“Ah, I thought I recognized that bottom,” Brian smirked.

“Very funny,” I laughed.

“Is this you here?” Brian asked pointing at a picture of me with my hair pulled back in a ponytail and a big toothy grin on my face.

“Yes,” I replied. “That would be my second grade school picture.”

“And how old were you in the second grade?”

“Probably about seven,” I said.

“You know, it’s amazing how little you’ve changed,” Brian marveled, taking in yet another picture of me holding a Raggedy Ann doll from when I was about two.

“That’s what I’ve been told,” I smiled. 

We looked over the rest of the pictures, some of which were quite old, featuring my parents when they were young, or even my grandparents, and once Brian had had his fill of my family history, we made our way into the living room where my parents were sitting in their chairs in front of the TV just like always.

We gave them their gift basket and sat down on the couch while they went through the contents. They oohed and aahed over the teapot and the real English tea, and my dad warned everyone to “keep their cotton-pickin’ hands off of his toffee.” Once that was over and done with, we moved on to the subject of dinner. My mom asked me what sounded good after being away from home for so long, and only one word came to mind - Chopsticks. It had been ages since I’d had good, and I mean _good,_ Chinese food, and the only place to get good Chinese food in Fresno, as far as I was concerned, was Chopsticks.

My mom went into the kitchen to call in the order, and this reminded me of my promise to Brian’s mom that we would call her as soon as we arrived in Fresno.

“Oh, that’s right,” Brian said. “Are you sure it’s okay?”

“Dad, it’s okay if Brian uses the phone to call his mom and dad and let them know that we made it here all right, isn’t it?” I asked.

“Sure,” my dad said with a crooked grin. “Just be sure to leave a dime on the counter when you’re done.”

Brian looked at me slightly confused, and I said, “He’s joking.”

“Okay, the food should be ready in about 15 minutes,” my mom announced, walking back to her chair in the living room. “But you know Chopsticks, they won’t start making the food until you get down there, so you’d better get going. Oh, and did I tell you that I picked up a banana nut cake from Swiss Chalet bakery for dessert?”

“You did?” I asked excitedly, my mouth beginning to water. “Oh God, I haven’t had cake from Swiss Chalet in so long.”

“Are we going to go pick up the food?” Brian asked me.

“Yeah, we’ll drive down there,” I said. “We’ll see if I still remember how to drive!”

“Do you think we might have time to make that call really quick before we go?” Brian asked. “It’s already the middle of the night over there I should think, and knowing my mum, she probably won’t sleep until we call.”

“Oh, yeah,” I answered. I looked to my mom and said, “Before we go get the food, Mom, we need to call Brian’s parents and let them know that we made it here okay.”

“Oh, sure, Brian,” my mom replied, motioning toward the kitchen. “The phone is right in there.”

“Oh thanks,” Brian said. “It’s very kind of you to let me call home.”

“Oh, you’re welcome,” my mom gushed, waving away his gratitude.

I led Brian into the kitchen and watched as he dialed the myriad of numbers that it took to ultimately reach his parents in Feltham. Finally, after several seconds, it was clear that he had made it through.

“Hi, Mum? Yes, we made it. We’re at Carrie’s folks’ house. Yes, the flight was fine. Long, but fine. We’re about to eat dinner. Chinese food. Yes, Carrie’s just going to drive us over to pick it up. Um, it’s about seven o’clock here, what time is it there? Oh dear. Did I wake you? Oh, you didn’t need to stay up and wait for my call, Mum. Well, I’m fine, so get some rest, okay? Yes, I’ll be sure to send you some postcards.”

Brian gave his mom my parents phone number before saying goodbye, just in case they had to reach us for some reason.

“Everything okay?” I asked Brian as soon as he hung up.

“Yeah, she’s been waiting up all this time for us to call though, just like I figured,” Brian replied.

“Oh, that’s what mom’s do,” I smiled. “Come on, let’s see if I still remember how to drive.”

My parents had my car keys hanging on a hook on the kitchen wall, so I reached for those, grabbed my purse out of my room, and took a check for the food from my mom before Brian and I headed out the door. It occurred to me that my car was blocked in in the driveway, so my dad followed us out and moved his car first.

“If you’re going to be driving your car a lot while you’re here, you’d better park it on the lawn when you get back,” my dad advised.

“Will do,” I said.

I unlocked the passenger side door first so that Brian could get in, then walked around to the driver’s side and slid onto my old familiar blue vinyl seat. I rubbed the top of the dusty dashboard and said, “Hey old girl. Did ya miss me?”

I put the key in the ignition and turned, and the sound of my big beautiful V-8 engine springing to life was like music to my ears.

“Oh yeah, baby,” I smiled. I looked at Brian and said, “Now _that’s_ what a car should sound like.”

I threw the gearshift into reverse, and slowly backed out of the driveway, grinning and waving at my dad as he pulled his car back into the driveway. I shifted into drive, and quick as a flash, we were speeding off down the road.

“So, what do you think of my neighborhood?” I asked Brian, as I pulled up to the stop sign at the corner of Leisure and Winery.

“It’s about what I imagined a California neighborhood would look like,” Brian answered.

“Yep, ranch-style houses as far as the eye can see,” I concurred. “Not nearly as exciting as some of the architecture in England, I know, but it’s home.”

We continued down Winery, and I pointed out my old elementary school to Brian, along with the park I played in as a kid just across from it. We turned on to Olive and drove past the C&O Shopping Center, where the famous Swiss Chalet bakery was located, then continued on just past Chestnut where the equally famous Chopsticks was located. I parked my Camaro in the tiny parking lot just in front of the restaurant, and Brian and I went inside.

The lady that ran Chopsticks knew my mom and me very well, and I was immediately greeted by a thick Chinese accent, exclaiming, “Miss Martin! I haven’t seen you in so long! You all grown up now!”

“Yes,” I laughed. “I’ve been away at college.”

“Oh, so smart!” she drawled. “What college you go to?”

“Well, I went to Stanford for four years, you know, up by San Francisco, then I started going to school in England,” I explained.

“Oh! How long you been in England?” she asked excitedly.

“Close to a year now,” I answered. I grabbed Brian’s arm and pulled him toward me, and said, “That’s where I met this guy.”

“You English?” the lady asked Brian, slightly in awe.

“I am,” Brian blushed. 

“You from London?”

“Yes, I’m from London,” Brian smiled.

“Oh,” she drawled, looking at me. “You got a tall handsome Englishman for a boyfriend!”

We both started laughing, and Brian just shook his head, obviously embarrassed about being put on display.

“Your order coming right up, okay? About five minutes,” she told me before shuffling off into the kitchen.

Brian and I sat down on one of the long wooden benches just under the windows at the front of the restaurant and waited for more like 15 minutes for our food.

“So, are you famous around here or something?” Brian asked me with a big grin.

“Sort of, I guess,” I laughed. “Everybody around here knows my mom and me because we were always the ones out shopping together or picking up take out food.”

“Does your family get take away food a lot? I was sort of surprised that your mum hadn’t cooked dinner for us,” Brian said.

“Oh, trust me, you don’t want my mom’s cooking,” I said sagely, shaking my head. “Her idea of making dinner is a box of macaroni and cheese with a can of tuna mixed in. It’s not a pretty sight, believe me.”

“Where did you learn to cook then?” Brian asked.

“Well, I figured out at an early age that if I wanted things like home made cookies or cupcakes or muffins that I was going to have to make them myself, since my mom never made anything. So I guess my cooking skills started out of necessity, and just went from there,” I explained. “Most everything that I know how to make has been self-taught.”

“What about Thanksgiving dinner? That’s not coming from a restaurant, is it?” Brian asked.

“That’s actually one of the few meals that my mom’s pretty good at making,” I admitted. “But I’ll be helping her with it to make sure everything comes out okay.”

Before long, our food was ready, and we were heading back to the house with cardboard cartons filled with delicious smelling pork chow mein, pork fried rice, sweet and sour chicken and fried shrimp.

The food from Chopsticks was every bit as good as it smelled, and the cake from Swiss Chalet was delectable. After dinner we all sat around the living room for a bit, with Brian and I being asked a million questions by my parents about our life back in England. I remembered the photos that I’d brought along with us and dug them out of my carry on bag to show my mom and dad. We decided that we could all see them best and pass them around easier if we were to sit around a table, so into the kitchen we went.

“Now, where was this taken?” my mom asked as she looked over the first stack of pictures.

“These are some recent photos of Brian and me taken at the flat,” I explained. “And the kitten is our new little cat, Harold.”

“Oh, he’s a cutie,” my mom drawled. “Brian, you have a beard in some of these.”

“Yeah, I had it up until about a month ago when Freddie made me shave it off,” Brian laughed.

“Now who’s Freddie?” my mom asked, passing the pictures over to my dad.

“He’s the lead singer of Queen, the band that Brian’s in,” I answered, as I looked through the pictures to find the live shots I’d taken of the guys. “Here, these are some pictures I took at their last concert.”

“What kind of music do you guys play?” my dad asked Brian.

“Um, rock ‘n’ roll,” Brian replied. “Are you familiar with Led Zeppelin or Cream?”

I laughed as I watched a confused look spread across my dad’s face.

“Cream?? No, I only know the music that she used to listen to,” my dad said, pointing vaguely in my direction. “Those stupid Monkee and Beatle guys.”

“Okay, well, The Beatles have been a big influence on us,” Brian conceded. “Some of our music sounds a little like theirs.”

“Oh, I love The Beatles,” my mom interjected. “Is this you playing guitar, Brian?”

“That’s me,” Brian confirmed, looking at the picture that my mom held up for his perusal.

“Look at you guys with all that long hair and those get ups,” my mom smiled. “Now who’s who in these pictures?”

“Oh, um, that’s Freddie,” I answered, pointing at a close-up shot I’d taken of him. “That’s John, he’s the bass player, and Roger is the drummer.”

“Oh, so _that’s_ Roger,” my mom drawled. “Ooh, he’s a cutie, isn’t he?”

“Mom…” I admonished.

“Oops, I’m sorry Brian,” my mom laughed.

“It’s perfectly all right,” Brian said with a slight smile, even though I could tell he was mildly irritated. “You’re not the only female to describe Roger as a cutie.”

“Roger? Wasn’t he your boyfriend?” my dad interjected, looking at the pictures my mom had passed to him. Way to pay attention to what was being said, Dad.

“Good God…” I sighed, rubbing my hand over my face in embarrassment.

“Yes, Dad,” my mom told him. “But they broke up, remember?”

“Oh. Well I don’t know. I can’t keep track of all the guys she’s hanging out with these days,” my dad said, shaking his head.

“All you need to worry about is this guy right here,” I said, linking my arm through Brian’s and smiling up at him. “Now, where were we…”

We looked through the remainder of the photos, including the shots Brian and I had taken on the camping trip, the pictures from Hampshire, and the photos that Brian and I had taken around various parts of London, and it suddenly started to hit me that I was getting pretty tired. I could tell that Brian’s eyes were drooping as well. Being up for nearly 24 hours really took it out of a person.

We told my mom and dad goodnight, and headed back to our separate rooms, where we would have to sleep separately in separate beds. I honestly didn’t know how I was going to survive it.

“Can I at least have your shirt?” I asked Brian, as we stood in his room, kissing goodnight as if it was our last night together on the planet.

“My shirt?” Brian asked me with a furrowed brow.

“So I can cuddle with something that at least smells like you,” I replied.

Brian thought I was crazy, but nonetheless, wriggled out of his white button-down-the-front shirt and handed it to me. I put it up to my nose and breathed in the aroma of soap, cologne and Brian’s own unique scent. 

I wrapped my arms around him and held on tight, listening to the comforting sound of his heart beating beneath my ear. His skin was always so soft and warm, and I couldn’t bear the thought of not waking up beside him. Finally we kissed each other one last time and went our separate ways. I dragged my feet into my room, leaving the door open ajar just in case Brian called me or needed something.

I changed into a t-shirt and some pajama bottoms and crawled into bed with Brian’s shirt held close to my face, and it hit me that for the first time in my life my old bedroom and my old familiar bed weren’t a source of comfort to me. I was longing for my bed in London. I was missing the sounds of cars and people and English sirens zooming down the street. I wanted to wake up and shuffle into my tiny kitchen the way I did every morning and feed Harold and grab a quick bowl of cereal before heading off to school. But mostly, I just wanted to wake up next to Brian.

Tears welled up in my eyes, and I thought about what my life was going to be like in a year’s time when I would be back in America to finish up my degree while Brian remained in England. If it was this hard for me to cope without Brian for just one night, then how on earth was I going to be able to face months without seeing his angelic face everyday? It didn’t seem possible. I was seriously starting to believe that I wasn’t strong enough to survive it. I just loved the man too much to be away from him for that long. What on earth was I going to do?

Just as I started to ponder that thought, I heard the hinges squeak on Brian’s door across the hall and the shuffle of soft footsteps upon the carpet outside. My door opened slowly, the light from the hallway creating a silhouette of dark curly hair on the head that was peeking into my room.

“Can I come in for a minute?” Brian whispered.

“Yes, of course, come in,” I answered, quickly wiping the tears from my cheeks.

“What, um, what did you do with the shirt you were wearing today?” Brian asked softly, making his way further into my room, trying hard not to trip over anything.

“Oh, it’s on my dresser,” I replied, pointing to the other side of the room.

“You, uh, you mind if I take it?” Brian muttered.

“Ah-ha! I’m suddenly not so crazy after all, am I?” I laughed.

“Well, you know…” Brian stammered. “I can’t seem to sleep, and I just thought…”

“Just take it,” I smiled.

“Thanks,” Brian said quietly, reaching toward my dresser. “I’ll see you in the morning. I love you.”

“I love you too,” I said.


	52. Chapter 52

I woke up the next morning feeling as though my body was made of lead. Somewhere deep in the recesses of my mind I registered the fact that I was probably suffering from jetlag. I reached for Brian and felt nothing but a cold empty patch of bed next to me. I opened my eyes and shook my head over my own stupidity. Clearly if I was suffering from jetlag then that meant that I wasn’t in London, and if I wasn’t in London then that meant that I was in Fresno, and if I was in Fresno, then I was abiding by my parent’s ridiculous rules of “no sleeping with Brian”.

My brain began to slowly wake up and it occurred to me that I could hear my parents’ voices and the smell of frying food coming from the kitchen. I looked at the clock on my bookshelf and saw that it was already ten in the morning. I threw back the covers, got out of bed, and snuck out of my bedroom heading for the spare room across the hall. I pushed the door open slightly, peeked inside, and saw that Brian was lying in bed, wide-awake, staring at the ceiling.

“Hey you, can I come in?” I whispered.

“Oh, yeah, I didn’t see you there,” Brian replied, looking toward to doorway with a smile.

I quickly dashed inside and closed the door behind me, heading directly for Brian’s bed. He scooted over a bit and lifted up the covers for me to climb in beside him. We wrapped our arms around each other and started kissing as though we hadn’t seen each other in ten years. The sensation of our warm bodies pressed together felt like absolute heaven. 

“God I missed you last night,” Brian breathed, pressing his forehead against mine.

“I know,” I sighed. “We have to do something about this situation. I can’t sleep without you for this entire trip.”

“What do you propose?” Brian asked.

“I propose that we go to Disneyland today,” I answered.

“What? But we just got here!” Brian said.

“I know, but think about it,” I began. “Thanksgiving is only a few days away, and I’m probably going to have to start cooking on Wednesday, so if we don’t go now, we might not have time. And, it would give us a couple of nights by ourselves in a hotel room.”

“Won’t it seem rude to your parents that we’re leaving again so soon?” Brian asked.

“I honestly don’t care,” I replied. “They’re the ones that came up with this stupid rule about us having separate rooms, and I can’t go another night without you right now.”

“God, I know. As tired as I was, I could barely sleep last night knowing that you were across the hall and I couldn’t hold you,” Brian whispered. He gave me a crooked grin and said, “All I could think about was you telling your mum that I was your security blanket, and I realized that you’ve become my security blanket as well.”

I looked up at Brian’s beautiful hazel eyes, smoothed away a stray curl from his face, and said, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Brian smiled.

We finally dragged ourselves out of bed after cuddling a bit longer and wandered into the kitchen to see what my parents were up to. My dad had cooked a huge fry-up of Spam, potatoes and eggs for breakfast, and not wanting to hurt his feelings, we sat down and ate as much of it as we could. The coffee that he’d made was good, at least.

I told to my parents that because the time that Brian and I had in California was so limited, and since Brian wanted to see as much as he could while he was there, that we’d decided to go to Disneyland for a couple of days. My mom, of course, was disappointed that we were going to be leaving again so soon, but my dad just told us to go and have a good time and left it at that. So after breakfast, we headed back to our rooms, got out my suitcase since it was the larger of the two, and packed everything that we’d need for a two day trip. Clothes, sweaters, toiletries, cameras - in it all went. We showered, shaved and got dressed, and soon we were ready to head out the door.

We loaded up my Camaro, filled her up with gas, and hit the road heading south along the Highway 99 corridor, which has never been much to look at. It’s always been nothing more than a long, boring stretch of road punctuated occasionally by a small town, a junkyard or a lonely looking gas station in the middle of nowhere. Other than that, its just farmland as far as the eye can see.

We stopped briefly in Bakersfield, the halfway point between Fresno and Los Angeles, to stretch our legs, use a bathroom and grab a quick snack before we were back on the road once again, making our way toward the treacherous Grapevine crossing over the Tehachapi Mountains on Interstate 5. Thankfully the weather was good, so there was no snow or rain impeding our way, and the big V-8 engine in my car allowed us to climb the steep mountains as if they were nothing but small bumps in the road.

Before long we were on the downward slope into Los Angeles, and Brian’s eyes lit up as he took everything in. The cars, the roads, the buildings, everything seemed incredible to him. We were making such good time that I decided to take him to Hollywood first before we drove the rest of the way into Anaheim. We visited the Hollywood Bowl, Graumann’s Chinese Theatre and the Hollywood Walk of Fame amongst other things. Brian was completely enthralled with the handprints of old time celebrities like Humphrey Bogart, Jimmy Stewart and Cary Grant, and said his parents wouldn’t believe that he’d seen such things. We were both taking tons of pictures to show everyone back home, and even went into a typical souvenir shop on Hollywood Blvd. to buy postcards and coffee mugs for Brian’s parents, along with t-shirts for Roger, Freddie and John. Brian was like a kid in a candy store, and it was well worth the trip just to see his face light up.

By five o’clock it was already getting dark, so we decided that we’d better get back in the car and drive the rest of the way to Anaheim in order to find a hotel. Traffic was backed up on Interstate 5 near Disneyland, just as it always was, but eventually we were off of the freeway and near the park in search of a place to stay. The Alpine Inn on Katella Avenue looked cute and inviting, with it’s log cabin style walls and faux snow covered roof. The flashing “vacancy” sign seemed to be beckoning us inside, so we decided that we’d give the place a try. Thankfully they had an inexpensive room with a nice king sized bed for the next two nights, and best of all, they were walking distance from Disneyland’s front gate.

We hauled our things up to our room, settled in a bit, and realized that we were both starving. Across the street was another hotel called the Jolly Roger that had a small café, and since it was close by, that’s where we decided to have dinner. The place claimed to serve the best pirate grub in town, so I ordered the steak and Brian ordered the seafood, along with some lovely tropical drinks filled with rum, and by the time we were done, we were completely full and staggering like pirates back to our hotel room.

It felt so good to have some time to ourselves, not to mention a bed to ourselves, so we got undressed, curled up under the covers, and turned on the TV. We flipped through what few channels there were, and finally decided on the new show _Emergency_ when it came on at eight o’clock. I hadn’t seen the show before, since it started just after I’d left for England, but it was a show about firefighters that was set in L.A. and looked pretty good, not to mention the fact that the guy who played Johnny Gage (i.e. Randolph Mantooth) was smokin’ hot.

“Ooh, who’s he?” I wondered out loud, snuggling close to Brian in an attempt to keep warm.

“Who’s who?” Brian asked.

“That guy on this show, the one playing the character Johnny. He’s cute,” I said.

“Let me guess,” Brian said sarcastically. “You’re going to be putting his picture up on your wall next.”

“Well, he is sort of my type,” I smiled. “Tall, thin, dark hair…”

“Hmm, tall, thin, dark hair, eh?” Brian echoed. “That sounds sort of familiar. Know anyone who fits that description?”

“Hmm, let me think…” I teased, propping myself up on one elbow and rubbing my chin as if I was deep in thought.

“Let me give you a clue,” Brian said, pushing me onto my back and rolling over on top of me. “You happen to be lying with him in this bed right now with no clothes on.”

“Oh! You mean you!” I smirked. “Yeah, I guess you do kind of fit that description, don’t you?”

“Kind of? Only kind of?” Brian cried, pretending to be insulted. He rolled back onto his back and folded his arms defiantly across his chest, saying, “Fine. I guess if I’m not your type...”

“Oh, you’re my type, baby,” I purred, lowering my head to one of my favorite parts of Brian’s body, his stomach, to leave a trail of kisses that led lower and lower.

I reached out to wrap my hand around his nice hard cock, and took the head into my mouth, sucking and teasing until I heard Brian suck air sharply into his lungs.

“Oh God yes…” he moaned, reaching down to run his fingers through my hair.

I ran my tongue up and down his long shaft over and over before taking as much of his cock into my mouth as I could. I sucked and licked and drove Brian wild until he was breathing hard and begging me not to stop.

“Come here baby,” he finally said, reaching down to pull me up on top of him in a 69 position.

I continued to pleasure Brian, taking him in deeper, drinking in the salty taste of his skin against my tongue. I let out a small whimper as his tongue delved into the warm wetness between my legs, sending shivers down my entire body, and when he plunged his long slender fingers deep inside me I completely lost control, crying out and moaning with pleasure. We continued on this way until I couldn’t take it any longer. My body was crying out for more.

“I’ve got to feel you inside me…” I gasped.

“Come here then…” Brian breathed, helping me shift myself around.

I straddled his hips and lowered myself down over his hard cock, taking him all the way into my warm wet body. I whimpered and shuddered at the feel of him inside of me, and began to move slowly over him at first, relishing the sensation of our bodies being united once more. I started to move faster, rocking my hips up and down as I watched the pleasure building on Brian’s face. He held on tight to my ass, thrusting deeper inside of me, as he threw his head back onto the pillow, his mouth open and his breathing ragged.

“Brian,” I whimpered, my hair hanging down around my face. “Oh God, Brian…”

Brian pulled me down toward him for a long, deep kiss, our warm bodies pressed tightly together. He rolled me over onto my back, our bodies still intertwined, and began moving inside of me hard and fast. I gasped for air and clung to his back, wrapping my legs around his hips, pulling him deeper inside of me. His chest was tantalizingly close to me, so I pulled him in closer until he was near enough for my greedy mouth to reach. I sucked and nibbled at his hard nipples, leaving a trail of love bites across his chest as I went.

Brian rocked back onto his knees and lifted my legs in the air, pushing harder and deeper inside of me, driving me absolutely crazy with desire. 

“Oh fuck…” I gasped. “Yes, oh God yes…”

I held on tight to the blankets on the bed as I looked up at Brian’s face. His eyebrows were drawn together and sweat was plastering his curly hair to his forehead. He looked unbelievably sexy, and I could feel my orgasm building deep inside of me.

“Carrie,” he breathed. “Oh fuck…”

I let out a loud cry as my climax washed over me, making me shudder from head to toe as I gasped out Brian’s name over and over. Brian let out a long deep moan as he came deep inside of me and collapsed on top of me in an exhausted heap. We held on to each other tight, breathing hard, and reveling in the sheer pleasure that we’d both finally been able to share.

Brian reached up to wipe the hair out of his face and bent his head over mine to kiss me softly before lying on his back, pulling me into his side so that we could snuggle. He brushed at the hair stuck to my face with his long slender fingers, and kissed me on the forehead before telling me how much he loved me.

“I love you too,” I whispered, trying desperately to catch my breath. “God how I missed sharing a bed with you last night.”

“I say when we get back to your parent’s house, one of us sneaks into the other’s room sometime during the night and closes the door,” Brian said, “then we sneak back out early in the morning before your mum and dad wake up. What do you think?”

“I think I love you even more for wanting to defy my parents,” I smiled.

We slept much better that night, wrapped up in each other’s arms just the way we always were back home with no parents to give us any flak. We woke up early, showered and dressed, and had a quick breakfast at the Jolly Roger Café before heading off to Disneyland on foot. We caught a tram in the parking lot that took us all the way to the ticket booths at front of the park, where we purchased a variety of tickets from “A” level coupons all the way to the highly coveted “E” tickets. We waltzed into the park holding hands, cameras strapped across our chests, with Brian looking as excited as a toddler on Christmas morning. He took in every shop and attraction along Main Street, marveling at the streetcars and omnibuses moving people from place to place, as the cast of Disney characters traipsed up and down, posing for pictures with children and adults alike every which way we looked. The two of us posed for pictures with Donald Duck, Pluto, The Three Little Pigs and Dopey from The Seven Dwarves before moving on into Tomorrowland.

The first ride we encountered was called Adventure Through Inner Space, where we boarded something called an “Atomoblie” as we were supposedly shrunk down to the size of an atom. This was right up Brian’s alley, and he was absolutely enthralled with all of the scientific references. I, however, was slightly less thrilled, and felt a little creeped-out when we were told to look up and see the scientist watching us through a microscope. It had been a few years since I’d been to Disneyland, but I could still remember this particular ride scaring the holy hell out of me when it had first been built in 1967.

We finished up Tomorrowland by riding Autopia, the Monorail, the Submarine Voyage and the Rocket Jets, which made me feel slightly motion sick and dizzy. Next stop was Fantasyland, so we hopped on the Skyway in Tomorrowland, and rode it all the way across the park to our next destination. Disney characters were still roaming around the park here and there, and I thought for a minute that I was going to get into a fistfight with Cinderella when she started blatantly flirting with Brian. The girl playing the part literally flounced up to him, completely ignoring my existence, and asked him if he’d seen her glass slipper while she batted her eyelashes seductively. I cleared my throat loudly, painted on a smile, and took a picture of the two of them posing at the back of Sleeping Beauty’s Castle. Once the photo had been taken, she blew Brian a kiss, and then pranced off toward her next victim. I just quirked an eyebrow at Brian and shook my head.

“What?” he asked innocently. “I didn’t encourage that! She just came up to me from out of nowhere.”

“Uh-huh, and I could tell how much it killed you to have a pretty blonde Disney princess flirting with you,” I teased.

“The only pretty blonde I want is right here,” Brian said, wrapping an arm around me and pulling me toward him for a side hug. He dropped a kiss on the top of my head, and we were off on our next adventure.

We were both anxious to get on the Matterhorn, Disneyland’s one and only rollercoaster, so we waited in line for it once, then turned right around and waited in line for it again once it was over. We were starting to get a little hungry by that point, so we wandered around Fantasyland until we came across Captain Cook’s Tuna Boat Restaurant. It seemed like a fun idea to have lunch on a replica of a pirate ship, so after we took several pictures posing in front of it, we went inside for some fish ‘n’ chips.

After lunch it was off to all of the fun “kiddie” rides, like the Mad Tea Party, Alice In Wonderland, Dumbo, Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride and more. We were having a blast, and I don’t think I’d ever seen Brian smile so much. We laughed and held hands, and kissed a couple of times on It’s A Small World, much to the chagrin of the mother and her two children sitting behind us. It was definitely the type of behavior that Uncle Walt would _not_ have approved of.

Next, we were off to Frontierland, a part of the park that Brian was almost as fascinated with as Tomorrowland because of the wild west / cowboys & Indians theme. What was it about the old west that intrigued people from England so much? I wondered. Undoubtedly too many Sunday afternoons spent watching old John Wayne movies on the BBC, I reckoned. We both enjoyed the Mine Train Ride and the Pack Mules, and had a moment to gather our thoughts on the Mark Twain Steamboat.

“Are you having a good time?” I asked Brian, as we stood on the upper deck of the boat, lazily drifting along the man-made river that ran through the heart of the park.

“This place is amazing,” Brian sighed. “I wish so much that we had someplace like this in England. My overly-active imagination as a child would have finally had a place to feel free.”

“I know what you mean!” I laughed. “That’s exactly how I felt the first time I came here as a kid. For months all I wanted to do was come back and move into one of the buildings on Main Street. I was sure that there must be people living up on those second stories.”

“So what was your favorite ride here when you were a kid?” Brian asked.

“Well, there wasn’t much here the first time I came, but I suppose the teacups were probably my favorite,” I answered. “The last time I came here, they had just opened Pirates of The Caribbean, which is amazing, and now they’ve got the Haunted Mansion too, which I can’t wait to go on.”

“Where are those rides located?” Brian asked.

“Over in New Orleans Square,” I replied. “We’ll head there next.”

And head there next we did. We were both so enamored with The Haunted Mansion and Pirates of The Caribbean that we went on each ride twice, despite the long lines. It was getting on toward dinnertime by that point, so we stopped at the Plaza Inn to refuel. The old-fashioned Victorian ambiance of the restaurant was beautiful and relaxing, and the food was fantastic. We sat at our cozy table chatting about our day and resting our feet for a bit before heading off on our next adventure, which was the new Main Street Electrical Parade that had just started running over the summer.

We managed to squeeze in amongst the crowds on Main Street and found a perfect spot to see all of the action. It was getting seriously chilly by this point, so we tossed our sweatshirts, which had been tied around our waists for most of the day, up over our heads, and snuggled together on the cold pavement, trying to keep warm.

The parade ended up being a lot of fun, with silly music playing over the PA system and every float and Disney character coated in shining lights. Cinderella came by in her glittery pumpkin carriage, and I couldn’t believe it when she spotted Brian once again, pointed at him, and gave him a sickeningly sweet little wave.

“What is it with you two?” I demanded.

“I swear to God, I have nothing to do with this!” Brian said, holding his hands up in an attempt to plead his innocence.

“Yeah, well, if she ends up trying to give you her phone number or something, I’m going to be kicking some princess ass,” I griped.

After the parade the evening started to wind down a bit, and Brian and I were both getting a little tired. We wandered into Adventureland, since we hadn’t been there yet, and rode the Jungle River Cruise and laughed over the Enchanted Tiki Room. The ridiculous song that the animatronic birds sang was stuck in our heads the rest of the night, and we walked back in the direction of Main Street singing, “In the tiki, tiki, tiki, tiki, tiki room, in the tiki, tiki, tiki, tiki, tiki room…”

We sat down to watch Great Moments With Mr. Lincoln and went to the Main Street Cinema to see _Steam Boat Willie_ before making our way into the various food emporiums and gift shops that surrounded us. Brian was fascinated with the magic shop, where they sold a variety of magic tricks and bizarre and macabre items, which included terrifyingly realistic monster movie masks. Brian wanted one desperately, but they were pretty pricey, so he settled on a small ceramic human skull that was displayed on the next shelf down instead. I found myself wondering where in the flat that was going to end up, and how many times it would scare the hell out of me before I got used to seeing it everyday.

Next we went into the candle shop, where Brian found a gorgeous carved candle to take home to his mom, and I bought a set of hand-dipped tapered candles and small candlestick holders to go in our flat. It was off to the tobacco shop after that, where we found an intricately hand-carved pipe for Brian’s dad, along with a tin of Disneyland’s finest tobacco. I thought about Roger and his smoking habit, and bought him a pack of his favorite Marlboros with the California state seal on them. They also had free Disney matchbooks that you could take, and Brian with his habit of collecting matches picked up several, stuffing them greedily into our shopping bag.

We wanted to pick up something special for Roger, Freddie and John while we were at Disneyland as well, and happened to spot the Mad Hatter shop near the town square, where they sold a variety of Disney related hats and memorabilia. We went inside and got each of them the most famous and popular of all Disney souvenirs - a set of mouse ears with their names embroidered on the back. We also found another shop nearby that sold t-shirts, and stopped in to pick out a couple for ourselves.

After our shopping was done, we stopped by the bakery for a couple of chocolate chip cookies and a warm cup of coffee before heading back out onto Main Street to try and find a good spot to watch the fireworks show. We found a place near the town square, and settled in to wait for the magic to begin. We both had aching feet by this point, and the night air just kept getting colder and colder. We snuggled close together, surrounded by our various bags full of merchandise, and our eyes met for a long and loving gaze.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” Brian smiled. “I never thought in a million years that I’d be able to say that I’d been to Disneyland.”

“I still can’t believe that you’re in California with me where I can share all of these things with you,” I said. “This is without a doubt the most fun I’ve ever had at Disneyland. It’s like I’m getting to see it for the first time all over again through your eyes.”

Brian leaned his forehead against mine, our cold noses pressed against each other’s, before he tilted his head and brushed my lips softly with his. We kissed again, deeper and longer, completely unconcerned that thousands of people were milling around us in every direction. He tasted sweet, like cookies and coffee, his lips soft and warm compared to the cold air that surrounded us, as the two of us simply melted into one another.

It wasn’t until a loud boom sounded somewhere nearby that we pulled apart and gazed up at the sky. A giant burst of blue fireworks blossomed and crackled in the air, followed by red, purple and green. It was the most magical thing I’d ever experienced, sitting there with Brian, feeling the warmth of his body pressed against mine as round after round of beautiful fireworks exploded in the sky above us. We “oohed” and “aahed” like children, the light from the fireworks glinting brightly in our eyes. I never wanted that moment to end. I’d never felt so happy, so much in love. I knew that I would never be able to see or think of Disneyland again without reliving that very moment for the rest of my life. When Walt Disney had declared Disneyland to be “The Happiest Place On Earth”, he had definitely known what he was talking about.


	53. Chapter 53

Brian and I staggered back to the hotel that night with achy backs, legs and feet, and collapsed onto our hotel bed, sleeping soundly until the morning light came streaming in through the window the next day. We both felt like we’d run a marathon the previous day, and had to roll ourselves slowly out of bed. A warm bath seemed like a good prescription for sore and tired muscles, and since the tub in our room was fairly large, we decided to take a bath together, just like we had at our bed & breakfast in Hampshire. The main difference this time was a decided lack of energy. Instead of splashing each other like we’d done before, we leaned back allowing the warm water to envelope our bodies, practically falling back asleep in the process.

Eventually, we were dressed and packed up, with a little more drive to face the day than we’d had upon waking up. Breakfast, along with a nice strong cup of coffee, definitely helped.

We headed north on Interstate 5, and Brian asked, “So are we just going back to Fresno then?”

“Actually, I’ve got one more surprise for you before we go back to my parents’ house,” I grinned.

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” Brian smiled.

“You’ll see,” I said. “I think it’s something that you’ll definitely like…”

We got as far as the Hollywood area before I took the Los Feliz exit toward Griffith Park. We wound through the hills and curves, until our destination was in sight.

“Is that…?” Brian began.

“The world famous Griffith Park Observatory,” I said proudly.

“No way…” Brian breathed, leaning forward to get a better view through the windshield of my car.

We found a parking place, and had to do all the typical touristy things, like pose for pictures with the statues of famous astronomers out in front of the observatory, and, of course, we had to have a picture taken of us with the Hollywood sign in the background. We asked a friendly couple if they wouldn’t mind taking our picture, and stood with an arm around each other at the edge of the parking lot with the large white Hollywood letters looming in the hills behind us.

We spent a couple of hours in the observatory itself, Brian pouring over each and every exhibit with his usual attention to detail. He was enthralled by the moon rock examples, and got into a deep discussion with one of the employees about the displays in the planetarium, which I had difficulty following along with. He was right in his element, and it made me smile to see him so excited and full of life. It made me think about the thesis he’d been working on for so long in the hopes of attaining his PHD in Astrophysics. He’d set it aside for the time being, focusing more on working with Queen, but I knew how much science was in his blood, and I found myself wondering if he’d ever really be able to just let it all go.

We left the observatory that afternoon holding hands, with Brian chattering a mile a minute about the various things he’d encountered inside. I listened and nodded when I could, my heart feeling light as air over his enjoyment.

We got back in the car, and before I could start the engine, Brian leaned over toward me and said, “Thank you.”

“For what?” I smiled.

“For always thinking of me, and knowing how much this would mean to me,” Brian replied.

“I love you,” I shrugged. “It makes me happy to see you happy.”

Brian leaned in to kiss me, and it was the perfect end to a perfect trip to Los Angeles. 

We soared down the freeway toward Fresno laughing and joking and trying in vain to find something to listen to on the radio. It wasn’t until we reached Bakersfield that we finally managed to find a station that played mostly country music. Brian and I laughed hysterically as we sang along with _Act Natually_ by Buck Owens and _Ring of Fire_ by Johnny Cash. Neither one of us sounded quite right – Brian because he was too English, and me because I was slightly off-key as usual. Brian really lost it, though, when I belted out _Stand By Your Man_ along with Tammy Wynette, full blown southern accent and all. I don’t think I’d ever seen him laugh so hard, and when he started laughing, it got me laughing, to the point where we almost had to pull over and catch our breath. Needless to say, things settled down once we were closer to Fresno and able to tune in to my favorite rock ‘n’ roll station.

My parents were happy to see us arrive back home, mostly because my mom wanted me to go grocery shopping for Thanksgiving. It was already Monday, which meant that if a frozen turkey was going to be thawed and ready to cook by Thursday, it needed to go in the fridge no later than that day. Brian and I put our stuff away quickly and hopped back in the car with a blank check signed by my mom.

We drove over to Country Boy, the supermarket where I’d grown up shopping with my mom, and Brian was amazed by the sheer size of the place. He couldn’t believe the amount of aisles that the store had, and was really floored when he discovered that we would have to push a large metal shopping cart through the entire place in order to get everything that we needed. 

We tossed all the food for Thanksgiving into the cart, including potatoes, stuffing mix, celery, onions, rolls, canned corn, cranberry sauce, all the ingredients for pumpkin pie, and, of course, the turkey. I picked up a few other things so that I could make my famous peanut blossom cookies, and bought some snacks for Thanksgiving as well, like chips and dip, black and green olives, mixed nuts, and sweet and dill pickles.

“All of this for one meal?” Brian asked, completely shocked by the massive amount of food we were buying.

“Of course,” I grinned. “This is Thanksgiving, the holiday dedicated to feasting.”

Brian was fascinated by all the different kinds of food he encountered while we were shopping, with the various breakfast cereals being the most interesting to him of all. 

“Cap ‘n’ Crunch, Booberry, Lucky Charms… What are all of these?” Brian asked. “Don’t Americans eat things like Corn Flakes or Wheetabix?”

“Sure we do, but I’ve got to tell you, Lucky Charms has been my favorite since I was a kid,” I said. “In fact, I forgot how much I’ve missed it over the past ten months.”

I grabbed a box off of the shelf, and tossed it on top of the mountain of other food already in the shopping cart.

“Any of these cereals look interesting?” I asked Brian. “You’re welcome to pick out a box, you know.”

Brian looked over each box that seemed unfamiliar to him, perused the ingredients, and eventually settled on Kellogg’s Froot Loops.

“Excellent choice!” I commended. 

We picked up a few more things that my mom had told us to get, like milk, eggs, butter and bottles of soda, and I even got the ingredients for cheese stuffed shells, Brian’s favorite dinner that I made from scratch.

We hauled the huge cart full of food to the register, and the cashier greeted me much the same way that the lady at Chopsticks had. It was good to know that everyone in the old neighborhood still remembered me. We paid for the food as the box boy bagged everything up, and then trucked the groceries out to my car, tucking them safely away in the trunk to be unloaded at home. The whole experience seemed thoroughly bizarre to Brian, who was used to making short trips down to the corner market whenever we needed groceries, and never buying more than he could carry home on his own.

Once the shopping was done and everything was put away, I set about making the cheese stuffed shells and a salad for dinner. A person could only take so much of restaurant food before they needed some decent home cooking. My mother was thrilled, of course, that she didn’t have to worry about making or buying dinner, and my dad was impressed that I was able to cook so well, even though he complained about the lack of meat in the recipe.

“He doesn’t know that I mostly eat vegetarian food, does he?” Brian whispered to me as we all sat in the living room watching TV after dinner.

“Now that I think of it, he probably doesn’t,” I admitted.

“He’ll think I’m strange if you tell him, won’t he?” Brian asked.

“I don’t care if he does,” I answered firmly. “I’ve just never really made it a point of telling him, that’s all. And while we’re on the subject, I’ve been meaning to ask you, are you going to be okay with what we’ll be cooking for Thanksgiving?”

“Oh yeah, I’ll be fine,” Brian assured me. “I may not eat a lot of turkey, but everything else that you bought seems all right.”

We spent the rest of the evening relaxing, sitting on the couch holding hands and watching TV, in between the times when my parents inundated Brian with more questions about England or how he liked L.A. or what his parents did for a living or anything else they could possibly think of. We giggled over Rowan & Martin’s _Laugh In,_ and watched whatever western happened to be on during the NBC Monday Night Movie, before staying up for the late night shows.

My dad drifted off to bed a little after ten o’clock, and my mom stayed up with Brian and me until the eleven o’clock news was over. Johnny Carson came on after that, and Brian and I suddenly found ourselves sitting on the couch in the living room, very much alone.

“I can’t believe that your parents went to bed and left us out here without a chaperone,” Brian grinned, waggling his eyebrows at me and wrapping an arm around my shoulder.

“I know,” I agreed. “It reminds me of when I was 16 all over again and my mom left me out here with my boyfriend Dave.”

“Ah yes, I remember you mentioning Dave,” Brian said. “He was your first boyfriend, right?”

“Yep, that’s the one.”

“So what’s his story?” Brian asked. “How did the two of you get together?”

“Well, we met at the grocery store that you and I went to today,” I began. “He was a box boy, and we used to talk a bit because we both liked The Beatles, and finally we decided to go out. I wasn’t quite 16 when we went on our first date, and he was almost 20, so it was a pretty significant age difference at the time. Anyway, I remember one night after we’d gone out a couple of times, we were sitting in this very spot, and my mom had gone to bed leaving us alone just like she did right now.”

“And what happened?” Brian asked.

I raised an eyebrow at him and said, “You don’t really want to know that, do you?”

Brian just shrugged and said, “It happened six years ago, there’s nothing I can do about it now. Besides, it’s a part of your life, and I always want to know more about your life.”

“Well, we didn’t do much,” I said evasively. “Not that night anyway. We just mainly kissed. A lot.”

“Mm-hmm,” Brian responded. “And what ever happened to Dave?”

“Well, he eventually broke up with me and completely shattered my heart into a million pieces,” I began. “Then we got back together a few days later, and he basically gave me an ultimatum that either we were going to have to have sex, or we couldn’t stay together. The more I thought about it, the madder it made me, so then I ended up breaking up with him, and that was pretty much that.”

“Now see, that upsets me more than whatever the two of you did on this couch,” Brian said, shaking his head. “It sounds like he didn’t have an awful lot of respect for you.”

“I suppose in many ways he didn’t,” I replied. “He certainly didn’t pay an awful lot of attention to me, but I was crazy about him, so I overlooked a lot of things I guess.”

“I wish I would have known you back then,” Brian smiled, brushing the back of my hand with his fingertips.

“I wish we would have known each other too,” I sighed. “At that point in my life I couldn’t have even fathomed that one day I would not only visit England, but actually live there.”

“The universe seems to work in strange ways,” Brian said thoughtfully, his fingers working their way up my arm. “When you were 16 I was 19 and very wrapped up in school. Who knows if things would have worked out between the two of us then? It seems like we came into each other’s lives at just the right time.”

“What would we do without each other now?” I smiled.

“Let’s hope we never have to find out,” Brian answered, reaching up to gently trace his fingertips along my jawline. 

He leaned into me and kissed me gently, running his fingers through my hair. I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him closer, our kisses becoming longer and deeper. He lifted my legs onto his lap and ran his hand along my body until it came to rest on my right breast. He teased my nipple with his thumb through my clothing until it was hard and my body was aching for more.

He reached up inside my long-sleeved t-shirt, knowing that I was wearing a front clasp bra that day, and popped the restrictive garment open, freeing my breasts to his warm, soft touch.

“So, what did this Dave fella look like?” Brian breathed, trailing kisses down my neck as his hand reached inside my bra. “Did he look anything like me?”

“Definitely not,” I sighed, the deep recesses between my legs beginning to ache for Brian’s touch. “He was shorter and stockier with sandy-blonde hair and brown eyes.”

“Hmm,” Brian mumbled, reaching down to lift my shirt over my head. He lowered his mouth to my right nipple, sucking and teasing it until I whimpered with desire. He trailed kisses across my chest, from my right breast to my left, as he whispered, “Did he do this to you when you were 16?”

Brian took my left nipple into his mouth as he gently pressed me onto my back, his hand roaming down the front of my jeans, caressing and stroking the sensitive area between my legs.

“Uh…Do we have to talk about Dave?” I gasped. “I can think of much better ways to spend our time…”

“You mean, like this?” Brian asked, before plunging his tongue back into my mouth, his voice husky with desire.

He reached for the button on my pants, undid it, and pulled my zipper down before reaching inside my panties and sinking his long slim fingers deep inside of me.

“Oh God…” I whimpered. Brian muffled my moans and cries as we kissed deeper and harder, our tongues playing inside each other’s mouths. I tangled my fingers in his hair, breathing in the familiar scent of his almond shampoo, as he continued to move inside of me, feeling exactly how much I wanted him.

“Feel like sneaking back to my room?” Brian asked, before pulling his wet fingers out of my body, and sucking on them right in front of me.

“Mm-hmm,” I breathed as Brian offered me a taste of my own desire. I opened my mouth and sucked on Brian’s proffered fingers, licking every bit of my wetness right back off of him.

“Fuck…” he breathed. He quickly got up off of the couch, picked me up and tossed me over his shoulder as we headed down the hallway, careful to be as quiet as humanly possible. My parents’ bedroom door was closed, thankfully, so Brian approached his bedroom door, slowly turned the knob, and quickly snuck both of us inside before gently clicking the door shut once again.

He flopped me down onto his bed, and immediately pulled my pants and undies the rest of the way off. He undressed quickly and dove onto the bed burying his face between my legs, his hair tickling the inside of my thighs as I tried desperately not to scream or cry out, knowing that my parents were just a stones throw away.

“Oh God Brian,” I breathed, feeling like I was going to explode if I couldn’t make some kind of noise. I put my index finger in my mouth and bit down lightly, hoping that it would help me keep quiet.

Brian looked up and noticed what I was doing as his tongue continued to work its magic, and soon he was kissing his way up my body, saying, “Do you need something in your mouth to keep you quiet?”

“I suppose you have something in mind?” I asked, Brian’s warm breath sending shivers down my body.

“Mm, I think I might be able to help you out,” Brian replied. He kissed me long and hard, wrapping his arms around me, rolling my body over with his as he shifted onto his back.

I kissed my way from his lips down to his neck, sucking and tasting his salty skin, making him moan softly with pleasure as I kissed lower to his rock hard chest, licking and sucking at his nipples until they were taught with desire. He ran his fingers through my long hair, gently guiding me lower, until I reached his gorgeous hard cock, licking it from base to tip over and over with my tongue.

I wrapped my lips around his thick shaft, savoring the taste of his skin on my tongue, as Brian gently pushed my head lower, forcing me to take as much of him into my mouth as possible. I moved my head over the top of him, sucking and teasing him until he started moaning loudly with pleasure.

“Shhh,” I admonished, lifting my head up momentarily to smile at him, as my hand continued to keep him happy.

“I can’t help it, babe. You’re driving me crazy,” Brian whispered, reaching up to run a hand through his thick hair. 

I continued to go down on him, very much enjoying the effect I was having on him, until he told me he couldn’t take it anymore, that he had to feel my warm wet body wrapped around him.

I kissed my way back up his stomach and chest until I found his lips again. We kissed each other greedily, devouring each other’s mouths as Brian rolled me onto my back again. He spread my legs further apart with his knees, plunging his hard cock deep inside of me as I whimpered into his mouth. Kissing seemed to be the only thing that could keep both of us quiet.

He moved faster inside of me, and I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him deeper within me, as we both fought the urge to moan and cry out. We were breathing hard and ragged, the strain of having to keep as quiet as possible about to make both of us explode with pent up emotion.

Finally I couldn’t take it anymore, and covered my mouth with my hand as I cried out, “Oh fuck yes!”

Brian nuzzled his face into my neck, sucking on my sensitive skin as he tried to muffle his whimpers and moans. As agonizing as it was not to be able to let our emotions loose, there was also something seriously hot and exciting about the knowledge that we were having wicked, torrid sex right under my parents’ noses.

We continued to go at it harder and faster, our hot and sweaty bodies writhing on Brian’s bed, moving in unison with every thrust. I could feel my climax coming quickly, and I had no idea how I was going to contain the sound of my pleasure.

“Carrie…Carrie…” Brian breathed softly in my ear as he came deep inside of me.

“Oh God, Brian…” I whimpered, burying my face into his neck, as my orgasm hit me hard, making me gasp for air.

We both laid there, arms and legs tangled, trying to catch our breath, when Brian said, “I think there’s something to be said for having naughty secretive sex.”

I just laughed quietly and asked, “Do you feel like a teenager again, sneaking around behind your parents’ backs?”

“I feel like we’re both being sneaky teenagers right now,” Brian grinned. “And I’ve got to tell you, it’s definitely a turn on.”

“Mmm, maybe I should dress up in a little English school uniform for you one of these days then,” I purred, pressing my body against Brian’s as we shifted onto our sides and faced each other.

“Oh my fucking God, don’t tease me,” Brian sighed.

“Ooh, you’d like that, huh?” I smiled, brushing my finger across Brian’s chest in little swirly patterns. “Maybe I could be the naughty school girl, and you could be my professor, keeping me after school for a private lesson.”

Brian swallowed hard and whispered, “God I love you.” 

We kissed and talked for the next half hour or so, deciding that we’d wake up early in the morning so that I could sneak back into my room undetected before my parents knew where I was.

It was a good plan, and we might have pulled it off, if only we’d remembered to turn the TV off in the living room before sneaking off to Brian’s room. In our defense, we did have other things on our mind at the time.

I woke up to the sound of my dad shouting down the hallway at my mom, “Did you leave the TV on last night?”

“Yeah, but Carrie and Brian were still up when I went to bed. I wonder if they left it on?” my mom replied.

I could hear footsteps shuffling down the hallway toward my room as Brian’s eyes fluttered open and he casually stretched and yawned.

“Was someone shouting?” he asked, wiping the sleep out of his eyes.

“Carrie?” I could hear my mom call out in the hallway as she opened my bedroom door. “Carrie?”

“Shit,” I mumbled. “We are so busted…”

“Brian?” my mom called out, knocking quietly on Brian’s door just before she opened it ajar. Brian and I were like deer in headlights, as we laid in his bed completely naked, covers pulled up to our chins, staring at my mom’s narrow-eyed icy glare.


	54. Chapter 54

“Carrie Lynn Martin!” my mom exclaimed.

“What?” I asked innocently, as I tried to think up something quick. “We were talking last night, and we just fell asleep.”

“Naked?” my mom asked.

“Um, it’s my fault really,” Brian nobly said. “I asked Carrie to come in here, and one thing led to another I’m afraid. I’m really sorry.”

My mom just shook her head and sighed. She waggled her finger at Brian, grinning all the while, and said, “Don’t let it happen again.”

“I won’t, I promise,” Brian replied with a sheepish smile.

“Unbelievable!” I exclaimed after my mom left and shut the door.

“What?” Brian asked.

“If I would have said the same thing to my mom I would have never heard the end of it! But you tell her ‘oh, sorry, all my fault, pip pip cheerio’ and she melts like butter!” I cried in my best snooty British accent. 

Brian just stared at me open mouthed for a second before saying, “First of all, I don’t talk like that, and second, you should be happy that I got her off our backs.”

“I guess,” I snorted. “It must be nice having my mom love you more than she loves me.”

“Oh, shut up,” Brian laughed, reaching over to tickle my sides.

We both got up and took turns taking a quick shower before getting dressed and wandering into the kitchen for breakfast.

“Hey, are you the one that left the TV on last night?” my dad demanded of me as soon as I walked into the room.

“Good morning to you too, Dad,” I said in a snarky tone. “Yes, I’m sorry. I forgot to turn off the TV before I went to bed.”

“Well I don’t own the electric company you know!” he barked.

“Yes, okay, got it,” I said, heading toward the pantry to fish out my Lucky Charms. I turned to Brian and asked, “Want to try your Froot Loops, babe?”

“Yeah,” Brian smiled, taking the box from me. “Let’s give this American cereal thing a whirl.”

“What? You don’t have Froot Loops in England?” my mom asked in a slightly horrified voice.

“No, no Froot Loops in England,” Brian replied sweetly.

My mom clearly couldn’t comprehend the idea of such a civilized country not serving their children a bowl full of sugar every morning.

Brian and I had just sat down with our boxes of cereal, two bowls, two spoons and a gallon of milk when the phone rang.

“Oh, this is awfully early for someone to be calling,” my mom said as she meandered across the kitchen to pick up the phone. “Hello? Oh yes, hi! Yes, this is Sylvia Martin. Good, how are you? Oh, that’s good. Yes, Brian is right here. Oh, don’t mention it, we’re more than happy to have him here. No, no, he hasn’t been any trouble at all,” my mom laughed. “Well he’s right here, do you want to talk to him? Yes, you too! Okay, hang on just a second.”

Brian and I exchanged a quizzical look the whole time this conversation was taking place. I figured that it was Brian’s mom, and I could tell by the look on Brian’s face that he was worried over why she was calling.

“Brian, it’s your mom,” my mom said, holding out the receiver to him.

“Cheers,” Brian said as he got up from the table in order to stand closer to the phone base. “Hello? Hi Mum, everything okay? Oh good, you had me a bit worried. No we’re just sitting down to breakfast. Some kind of American cereal called Froot Loops. Yeah. They did? Oh, I don’t know about that. It’s really expensive to call England, and I don’t want to drive up Carrie’s parents’ phone bill. Can you tell him to call me instead? Yes, it should still be the same number you have. Yeah, just make sure you give him the country code and all that. Um, I’m not sure really. We haven’t discussed what we’re doing today yet. Yes, he should be home I think, unless he and Roger are still at Kensington Market. Okay, Mum, well thanks for calling and letting me know. It’s good to talk to you too. Yeah, we’ll be home before you know it. How’s the cat doing, by the way? Did he? Okay good, all right. Yeah, I’ll talk to you soon, Mum. Okay bye. Bye.”

Brian hung up the phone and sat back down at the table to finally pour his cereal.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

“Everything’s fine,” Brian replied. “But we may be getting a call from Freddie soon.”

“Why? What’s going on with Freddie?” I asked, taking a bite of my Lucky Charms.

“Um, I’m not quite sure really,” Brian answered. “My mum said that he and Roger stopped by yesterday and told her to ask me to call them if she happened to talk to me. She wasn’t sure if it was important or not, so she thought she’d call and pass on the message. I told her that I didn’t want to run your parents’ phone bill up though, so she was going to call Freddie right now and see if he could call here instead.”

“Hmm, that’s weird,” I said. “How did she say little Harold was doing?”

“She said that he’s finally made friends with Shadow and that the two of them slept all snuggled up together last night,” Brian smiled.

“Aw,” I sighed. “I miss my little baby.”

Brian was finally able to take a bite of his cereal, and I watched with anticipation to see what his reaction was.

“Well?” I asked. “How is it?”

“Sweet,” he replied. “But good.”

He had only managed to take a few bites, when the phone rang again. Brian and I looked at each other then I looked around the kitchen and realized that my parents were elsewhere. Nobody was around to answer the phone.

“Do you want me to get it?” Brian asked. “It might be Freddie.”

“Go ahead,” I shrugged.

Brian immediately stood up and reached for the phone, and with those long arms of his, it wasn’t much of a stretch.

“Hello?” he asked in a slightly timid voice. “Hey mate! What’s going on? What are you and Roger doing at our flat?”

My ears perked up at this, and I immediately ditched my bowl of cereal and ran down the hallway to my bedroom, hoping that my old phone was still plugged in and working. I grabbed the receiver, and lo and behold there was Freddie’s voice on the other end.

“You told Roger to look after the place remember? So we stopped by after closing the stall to make sure everything was okay,” Freddie said.

Whew! I breathed a sigh of relief. I was having visions of those two wreaking havoc at our place, messing with all of our personal belongings. I still wasn’t quite sure that they weren’t, of course, but I supposed if they were just there checking in on everything then that was probably all right.

“What time is it over there?” Brian asked, sounding much louder than Freddie since he was just in the other room.

“It’s about 5:30 in the evening here,” Freddie replied.

“Are you two behaving yourselves at our flat?” I interrupted.

“Is that Carrie’s lovely voice that I hear?” Freddie said. Even through 5,000 miles of phone line, I could still see the smirk on his face.

“Yes, it’s me,” I replied. “You two better be behaving yourselves at our place.”

“She says we better behave ourselves while we’re here,” Freddie said, clearly talking to Roger.

“Tell her I’m borrowing her stereo and taking it back to my place!” Roger shouted from across the room.

“Tell him I’ll kick his ass if he does,” I told Freddie, who just laughed on the other end, repeating what I said to Roger.

“All right, boys and girls, this is costing us money since you’re on _our_ phone,” Brian, the voice of reason, reminded everybody. “Now what did you need to talk to me about that couldn’t wait until I got home?”

“Right, I nearly forgot,” Freddie said. “Trident has booked us a headlining gig, and you’ll never guess where.”

“Where?” Brian demanded.

“The Marquee Club,” Freddie replied.

“Seriously?” Brian asked.

“Of course, darling, would I lie about something like this?” Freddie teased. “And it gets better. They’re inviting all sorts of record executives to come see the show.”

“Oh my God, that’s fantastic!” Brian exclaimed. “When is the show?”

“Next month on the 20th of December.”

“Lord, we’ve got to rehearse,” Brian said in a worried voice. “By the time I get home we’re only going to have a coupe of weeks or so. And it’s been months since we’ve played a gig.”

“Yes I know, dear,” Freddie drawled. “This is exactly why I was worried about you going so far from home right now.”

“We’ll be fine, everything will be fine,” Brian said quickly, clearly trying to convince himself every bit as much as he was trying to convince Freddie. “We’ll just have to buckle down as soon as I get back. We need to go over our set list, and costumes, and…God, I can’t believe that we’re finally going to headline at the Marquee. This could be huge for us.”

“I knew you’d want to know as soon as we found out,” Freddie said.

“Ask him what he’s bringing home for me,” I could hear Roger call out in his booming voice.

“Tell Roger to leave our things alone, or he gets nothing,” Brian replied.

I just laughed as Freddie passed on the information.

“So, have you two ducks been able to screw each other since you’ve been there, or are Carrie’s parents getting in the way?” Freddie asked in his usual blunt manner. I could hear Roger laughing in the background.

“I’m not answering that,” Brian said adamantly, although I could tell that he wanted to laugh. “Besides, you’re keeping me from my breakfast and running my phone bill through the roof.”

“Fine, fine,” Freddie relented. “You can tell us all about the interesting places you found to have sex when you get back.”

“I’ll be sure to do that,” Brian replied sarcastically. “In the meantime, we’ve got places to go and things to do.”

“All right, I won’t keep you,” Freddie said.

“Bye Carrie! Bye Brian! You’re flat is still in one piece, but I ate some of your food!” Roger yelled out in the background.

“Tell Roger thank you for keeping an eye on the place, and we’ll see you soon,” Brian laughed.

“Okay, have a safe trip home,” Freddie said.

We all said our goodbyes, and I hung up my bedroom phone and headed back into the kitchen to find Brian swirling his soggy cereal around his bowl with his spoon.

“Wow babe! The Marquee Club!” I gushed.

“This could really be big,” Brian said seriously, shaking his head at his bowl. “I almost wish that Freddie hadn’t told me, because now it’s going to prey on my mind for the rest of the trip.”

“Everything’s going to be fine,” I soothed. “You said so yourself.”

“I know…” Brian replied absentmindedly, staring off into space with a look that I’d seen many times. I knew he was feeling guilty about not being at home when the band received such exciting news, and he was worrying about whether or not they’d have enough time to get their stage act just right before performing such an important gig. I was well aware of what this whole thing could potentially mean for Queen, but at the same time, I wasn’t going to let him worry himself to death on what was supposed to be the trip of a lifetime for us both.

“Okay, look, first things first,” I said, knowing that I had to get his mind on something else. I reached for his bowl and said, “We’re going to get you a fresh bowl of cereal, since this one looks soggy and revolting now, and then we’re going to go out and have some fun today.”

“Where are we going?” Brian asked, as he watched me walk both of our cereal bowls to the kitchen sink.

“How does Yosemite sound?” I asked.

“Really?” Brian enthused. “You don’t have anything that you need to do for Thanksgiving?”

“Not today,” I answered, bringing two clean bowls over to the table. “We’ve got the whole day free to do whatever we like.”

“Wow,” Brian said. “I’d love to see Yosemite.”

“Then it’s settled,” I said, pouring some Froot Loops into his bowl. We finally got to eat our breakfast, gathered up a few things that we might need for our day trip, including our ever present cameras, told my parents where we were going, and we were off.

My Camaro purred up the hills into the Sierra Nevadas, leaving the fog and smog of Fresno behind. The skies were clear up in the mountains, but the weather was freezing. Luckily both Brian and I had dressed in warm layers of clothing before leaving the house. We stopped just for a moment in the tiny town of Oakhurst for a cup of coffee from a local doughnut shop, trying to warm our hands and bodies before heading back out on the road to finish the rest of the journey. 

There was a bit of snow on the ground starting around the tiny mountain village of Fish Camp that increased the closer we got to the park. The hills and trees all glistened with white, and the scene as we drove through the famous Wawona Tunnel into Yosemite Valley was nothing short of breathtaking.

“Oh wow…” Brian whispered, leaning forward to get a better view through the windshield. “This is the kind of thing that most people only get to see in pictures.”

“Isn’t it beautiful?” I smiled, proud of the amazing landscape that practically sat right in Fresno’s backyard.

I pulled over into the tiny parking lot that looked out onto the famous El Capitan and Half Dome rock formations, and Brian and I took advantage of the opportunity to take lots of photos, just the way every tourist did in that particular spot. We asked a couple of friendly German visitors, who thankfully spoke perfect English, if they would mind taking our picture, and they were more than obliging, snapping several shots of Brian and me snuggling close together with the gorgeous scenery behind us.

Once we were done there, we wound our way around the valley, stopping off at Bridalveil Falls, which was barely a trickle in the winter months, but still beautiful just the same. We parked the car and walked up the slippery steps to the base of the falls, and Brian literally had to catch me at one point when I slipped backwards on a patch of ice. We took a few photos, and then carefully made our way back down the steps again, where I was quite happy to be back on firm ground once more.

Yosemite Falls was still going strong, which surprised me a bit, since it was already late in the year. Again, we parked the car, and hiked about half a mile to the base, taking loads of pictures along the way. The park itself was relatively quiet with far less visitors than I was accustomed to when I normally visited in the late Spring, so we got to see a bit of wildlife as some of the braver creatures decided to venture out. There were squirrels, deer and coyotes, along with red-tailed hawks flying overhead, and Brian marveled over each and every one. We made it to the bottom of Yosemite Falls, and nearly froze to death from the frigid wind blasting us from the force of the flowing water. We took pictures of each other huddling in our coats with our hair blowing in every possible direction, and were more than happy to get back on the trail that took us to the car once we were finished.

We were both getting pretty cold by that point, but decided to make a couple more stops before we left. One of them was to the Indian Village, where Brian was fascinated by the replicas of Native American tee-pees and other displays representing the lives of the Miwok and Paiute people that once lived in Yosemite. Our last stop was the Mariposa Grove of Giant Sequoias. We parked and walked in amongst the trees and snow, shivering as we went, but it was well worth it in the end. Brian couldn’t believe the sheer size of the trees, and was really astounded when I told him that they were small compared to the ones up at Sequoia National Park. We posed and took pictures in front of the Grizzly Giant and California Tunnel Tree, amongst others, before our hunger and the chilly weather finally got the better of us.

We hurried back to the car, rubbing our hands together and breathing on them for warmth, and turned my heater on full blast as we made our way back out of the park along Highway 41. We stopped off in Oakhurst once again as dusk was beginning to fall, and I’d never been so happy to see the little one horse town in my life. Oakhurst couldn’t boast much, but they did at least have a few restaurants that could offer warmth and nourishment if nothing else.

We found a typical little American diner where we stopped in and ordered some nice warm soup and hot tea, and felt much better after we ate. We both dreaded walking back out into the cold again, so we stayed inside the restaurant for a bit, drinking our weak American tea and chatting about the day.

“I don’t know about you, but I think I may be ready for a nap when we get home,” I said, stretching and yawning.

“Tired?” Brian asked.

“A little,” I admitted. “It’s this cold weather. It makes me want to hibernate like a bear.”

“Yeah, what’s with this weather anyway?” Brian asked. “I thought California was supposed to be warm.”

“You want warm? Come back in July, then you’ll see warm,” I smiled. “Or go back down to L.A. It’s always relatively warm down there.”

“It was warmer down there,” Brian agreed before taking a sip of tea. “It amazes me how many different kinds of scenery and climates you find in California.”

“California is an incredible place,” I agreed.

“You must miss all of this living in England these days,” Brian said thoughtfully.

“Sometimes,” I shrugged. “Although, I’m usually so busy that I don’t think about it much. It’s the little things that I miss the most. Like a cake from Swiss Chalet, or a box of Lucky Charms.”

“So it’s mainly the sugar that you miss?” Brian smirked.

I just laughed and said, “Why do you think I bake cookies all the time?”

“Yes, I think I’m beginning to understand,” Brian smiled.

“Ooh, speaking of sweet things, I bet they have pie here,” I said, craning my neck, trying to see inside the glass case behind the counter. “Feel like a piece of pie?”

“Sure, why not,” Brian replied. “Although, if I leave this country with diabetes, I’m blaming you.”

We waved over the waitress and ordered our pie – apple with a large dollop of whipped cream on the top – and sat there with a fork each, sharing our sweet dessert and laughing over our phone conversation with Freddie that morning.

“So, are you actually going to discuss our sex life in the States with Freddie when we get home?” I laughed.

“Believe me, I try very hard not to, but he has a way of pulling things out of me,” Brian replied.

“Wait a minute,” I said, lowering my fork mid-bite. “Are you telling me that you’ve discussed our sex life with him before?”

Brian just shrugged and said, “What did you expect? Fellas talk, just like girls do. You should hear some of the things that Roger’s told us.”

I sat there completely agog, staring at Brian as he casually shoveled another bite of pie into his mouth.

“What, you mean about Roger and _me?”_ I asked at last. “What has he said?”

“Let’s see, we heard all about the little episode in Holland Park when the two of you were kissing. We heard about the two of you in the basement of Kensington Market, although, a lot of that came from Freddie because he was being very pervy and watching the two of you from the doorway. And we heard every last detail after the first time the two of you had sex,” Brian explained, counting each incident off on his fingers as he told me about it.

“Oh my God…” I said, dropping my head into the palm of my hand. “What kind of details are we talking about?”

“Well, we heard about how the two of you tore each other’s clothes off as soon as you got inside his flat. He told us about how you shared a cigarette with him, naughty girl,” Brian said, shaking his finger at me. “And, of course, we got a full description of what you looked like naked, amongst other things.”

“Unbelievable,” I breathed.

“I don’t know why you’re so shocked,” Brian laughed. “I mean it’s not like the two of you took great pains to keep your sexual escapades a secret. Need I remind you of the time that Freddie and I walked in on you and Roger in Brighton? Or later that night when the two of you were having sex right in front of us?”

“Okay, let’s clarify,” I said, pointing the tip of my fork at Brian. “You and Freddie weren’t supposed to walk in on Roger and me, and you certainly shouldn’t have continued to stand there watching us after you figured out what was happening. Talk about being pervy… And as for later that night, well, we thought you and Freddie were asleep.”

“How were Freddie and I supposed to look away when you were, uh, so provocatively posed?” Brian smirked. 

“Oh my God, don’t remind me,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m still completely scarred over the things the two of you saw.”

“Tell me about it,” Brian said. “I’ve spent months trying to get the image of you and Roger having sex out of my head.”

“So wait a minute,” I said, as it occurred to me that he hadn’t answered my original question. “What have you told the other three about us?”

“I don’t know,” Brian said, looking sheepishly at what was left of the pie. “I may have told Freddie a few of the details about our trip to Hampshire, but in my defense, he asked me about it.”

“And, of course, you couldn’t possibly tell him to mind his own business?” I teased.

“Look, it’s not like our sex life is that much of a secret anyway,” Brian argued with a shrug. He suddenly became very quiet as he looked down at the pie, playing with the remnants with his fork, and I could tell that something was on his mind.

“Penny for your thoughts?” I asked, tipping my head slightly to one side in order to get his attention.

“Hmm?” Brian asked, looking up at me with a distant faraway look in his eyes. He set his fork down with a light clatter and said, “Oh, I just keep thinking about the conversation with Freddie this morning.”

“Why? What’s wrong?” I asked, setting my fork down as well.

“I don’t know,” Brian began. “I just keep thinking about Freddie making his snide comments about me being so far away from home right now. Remember what he said when we told him we were coming to America? He said what if the band got a gig or a record deal and I wasn’t there. I didn’t think much of it at the time, because it didn’t seem like the band had many prospects on the horizon, but now he tells me about this Marquee gig and the fact that there’s going to be record execs there, and… I don’t know. What if he was right? What if something major happens for Queen and I’m not there?”

I’d seen Brian get in these reflective, worrisome moods before, and I knew that I had my work cut out for me to get his thoughts focused on something else. The trip to Yosemite had only provided a temporary solution. Now that things were quiet again and he had a bit of time to think, his mind began fixating on the problems at hand once more.

“Sweetie, even if something major does happen for Queen, nobody’s going to do anything or make any decisions without you,” I said as reassuringly as I could.

“We’ve just been working so hard for so long,” Brian said. “We can’t afford to let any opportunity slip through our fingers. Maybe Freddie was right. Maybe leaving the country right now wasn’t the best idea.”

“Baby, we’re only going to be here for a few more days,” I said, reaching across the table to hold his hands. “What could possibly happen in the next few days?”

“I don’t know,” Brian said, shaking his head. “I’m being ridiculous, I know.”

“No, your not,” I said. “I understand that this Marquee gig might potentially be a really big deal for Queen and that it’s got you a little worried, but there’s nothing that you can do about the whole thing right now. I think the best thing you can do is try and put it out of your head and just enjoy our trip here in the States until you can get back home.”

“You’re right,” Brian said, giving me a weak smile. “I know you’re right.”

“Come on, let’s drive back down into Fresno and find something else to do. Any shops or anything you’d like to visit?” I asked.

“How about a record shop?” Brian responded after a bit of thought. “Got any good record shops in Fresno?”

“Mm, one or two,” I smiled.

We paid the bill for the food and left the diner, braving the cold mountain air once more as we headed out to my waiting car. The forty-five minute drive from Oakhurst to Fresno was relatively quiet as Brian remained deep in thought. As much as I loved the man, I had to admit that I hated it when he suffered from sudden mood swings. I knew that it was kind of a Cancer thing, and that it was just a part of who Brian was, but I never quite knew how to pull him out of his cases of the doldrums. All I could do was wait it out, and hope that maybe the lure of buying some new records might help to get his mind off of things.


	55. Chapter 55

It was dark by the time we got back to Fresno, but thankfully it wasn’t late enough for any of the record shops to be closed yet. I took Brian to a little mom & pop place that was relatively close to my house, called J&C House of Records. I’d spent a fair amount of time there as a teenager, and it was where I’d gotten all of my Beatles, Monkees and Dave Clark Five records. When we walked through the door a flood of happy memories washed over me. I could still remember the feeling of buying my first Beatles album at the age of 14, the excitement of taking it home, peeling away the shrink wrap and smelling the scent of freshly printed ink on cardboard. I could still see myself sitting on the edge of my bed after I’d plunked the needle down onto the run-in groove, studying all four of The Beatles’ adorable faces on the album cover as _I Want To Hold Your Hand_ came blasting through my speakers. There truly was nothing quite like buying a new record. It was certainly something that always cheered me up, and I was hoping that it would do the same for Brian.

The inside of J&C House of Records looked pretty much the same as it always had, although I didn’t recognize any of the employees anymore, and the décor had changed a bit. The walls that were once plastered in Beatles, Rolling Stones and Mamas and Papas posters were now covered with Led Zeppelin, Deep Purple and Crosby, Stills and Nash amongst others. Brian and I hit the rock ‘n’ roll section, and flipped through artists like America, Black Sabbath, Genesis, The Hollies and Neil Young, and each found a couple of records that looked good. I picked up The Moody Blues’ new album, _Seventh Sojourn,_ and Bread’s latest record, _Guitar Man._ Brian found a newly released Cream album comprising older music of theirs called _Heavy Cream,_ and also picked up Slade’s new album called _Slayed._

“Slade, huh?” I asked him, looking over the records he planned to buy while he continued to rifle through the rock ‘n’ roll section. “I don’t think I know any of their stuff.”

“Really?” Brian asked, clearly surprised. “I saw them last year at the Marquee Club and they were fantastic. They released a single last year called _Coz I Luv You_ that I would think would be right up your alley.”

“Hmm…” I mumbled. “I wonder if they have it here?”

I wandered over to the 45s section, flipped through the “S”s, and actually found the single that Brian was talking about.

“Is this it?” I asked, joining him once more in the LPs sections.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Brian replied.

I had to admit, the guys on the picture sleeve looked a little strange and silly, but then that seemed to be the flavor of the day. I supposed they didn’t look any stranger than David Bowie or Gary Glitter after all. I looked up at Brian, smiled, and said, “Well, because you recommended it, I will buy it.”

Brian was still very quiet and wrapped up in his thoughts as we shopped, and I was sad to see that a trip to my favorite record store wasn’t quite as diverting as I’d hoped.

In the end, we didn’t stay at J&C House of Records all that long, and went home as soon as we’d made our purchases. My mom told us as soon as we walked through the door that she’d just ordered a couple of pizzas from our local pizza place, Me & Ed’s, and that they would be delivered before long. I asked her what kinds she’d ordered, and I was happy to hear that one of them was black olive and had no meat, for Brian’s sake. The two of us decided to head back to my room so that we could fire up my old phonograph and listen to some of our new music while we waited for the pizza to arrive.

“Should I play my new Slade 45?” I asked Brian in a cheery voice.

“Sure, put it on,” Brian replied, lying back on my bed.

I had to admit, after hearing the first few catchy bars of _Coz I Luv You,_ that Brian was right. I really did like the song, and the lyrics almost reminded me a bit of the way Brian and I felt about each other: 

_I won't laugh at you when you boo-hoo-hoo coz I luv you_

_I can turn my back on the things you lack coz I luv you_

_I just like the things you do, don't you change the things you do_

The whole song made me smile from beginning to end, and I told Brian that I would always think of him and the two of us being in California together every time I played it. Brian smiled, but I could tell that his thoughts were still elsewhere. 

After the record ended, I curled up next to him and asked, “Are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Brian replied, with a faint smile.

“Is this whole Marquee thing bothering you that much?” I asked.

“I’m really sorry, I know I’m terrible company right now,” Brian sighed. “I sort of feel like I’m letting the fellas down somehow by not being home.”

“What good would you be able to do them right now?” I asked. “You guys have got plenty of time to rehearse once we get back, right?”

“I don’t know,” Brian answered. “I hope so. We haven’t played a live show in months, and if we’re going to have record execs at this one, then there’s just so much that we have to think about. We haven’t even played a gig with the new equipment and PA system yet, for God’s sake! It’s going to take time to make sure that everything comes together just the way we want it to.”

“Do you want to go home early?” I asked.

“No, of course not,” Brian said. “I mean, we’ve been having a wonderful time here, and I certainly don’t want to ruin your Thanksgiving.”

“You know, maybe the problem is that you just didn’t talk to Freddie and Roger enough about everything this morning,” I said after a moment of thought.

“What do you mean?” Brian asked.

“I mean, it was a short conversation,” I answered. “Maybe you’d feel better if you could talk to someone a bit more about everything…”

I looked over at the little alarm clock that sat on the nightstand next to my phone, and decided then and there that I was going to do something to try and help ease Brian’s mind. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and reached for the phone.

“What are you doing?” Brian asked.

Instead of answering him I started dialing the myriad of numbers that it took to reach the U.K.

“I can tell you’re calling England,” Brian said, sitting up. “Who are you calling?”

“Just hang on a minute…” I said. It was hard enough to dial ten thousand numbers on a rotary phone without someone pestering you. Finally I could hear the familiar double ring of an English phone on the other end.

“Hello?” a groggy, yet slightly panicked voice answered.

“Roger?” I asked.

“Carrie?” he asked in return. “What’s wrong? Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” I assured him.

“You scared the bloody hell out of me,” Roger complained. “Do you know what time it is here?”

“I know, it’s late,” I said. “I’m sorry, I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“No, luckily I was still up, but only just,” he replied. “What’s going on?”

“Well, I need you to talk to your best friend over here,” I explained. I glanced over at Brian, and he in turn was shaking his head at me, an irritated expression clouding his features.

“Why, what’s the matter with Brian?” Roger asked.

“He’s been upset all day after Freddie’s phone call this morning,” I said.

“Don’t tell him I’ve been upset…” Brian quietly grumbled at me.

“Why?” Roger questioned. “He should be happy that we’ve got a paying gig coming up.”

“He’s feeling left out, like you guys are getting all this good news and making plans for the band, and he’s not there to be a part of it,” I said.

“Oh my fucking God…” Brian mumbled, rubbing his face with his hands.

“Oh my fucking God…” Roger groaned. “Put him on the phone.”

“Here, he wants to talk to you,” I said, holding the receiver out to Brian.

Brian took the proffered phone, put his hand over the mouthpiece, and whispered angrily to me, “Thank you very much for making me look like a five-year-old who’s throwing a tantrum!”

“Just talk to him,” I reprimanded. “You’ll feel better!”

Brian rolled his eyes at me, took a deep breath, and put the phone to his ear saying, “Hey Rog. Look, I’m sorry Carrie called you. Its nothing, I’m fine. I’m just worried about being prepared for the Marquee gig I guess, that’s all. I know… I know… Yeah, all right. Um, we went to Yosemite today and stopped by a record shop. Pretty similar, yeah. Uh, I got a Cream album that I haven’t seen in the U.K. before, and the new Slade album. I don’t know, I haven’t played it yet. Fine. Yeah, I will. All right, do you want to speak to Carrie again then? Right, hang on. Talk to you soon, mate. Okay, bye. Bye.”

Brian handed the phone back to me, and then flopped back onto his back, running an agitated hand through his thick, curly hair.

“Hey Rog,” I said.

“Okay, hopefully everything’s sorted now,” Roger said.

“Crisis averted?” I asked.

“Lord, I hope so for your sake,” Roger replied. “I just told him to stop worrying, that nothing all that exciting has really happened since the two of you have been gone, and that we’re not going to rehearse or do anything without him. I also told him that he’s mad to be worrying about any of this at all when he’s supposed to be having the time of his life in America.”

“Good, well I hope that did the trick,” I said.

“I’m right here you know,” Brian grumbled under his breath. “You can stop talking about me in the third person as if I don’t exist.”

“If you want to hear what we’re saying, then go get on the other line,” I told him.

“Now he’s pissed off because we’re talking about him?” Roger asked. I could sense the crooked grin on his face even from 5,000 miles away.

“A bit, yeah,” I replied quietly.

“Well, good luck,” Roger laughed. “You know the man can never go very long without having some sort of a crisis. Lucky you, it happened while the two of you are on holiday visiting your parents.”

“Yeah, thanks,” I said sarcastically. “I can tell that I’ve really got your sympathy.”

“I’m completely sympathetic to your situation, believe me, because I know how Brian can be,” Roger said. “I’m just glad it’s you that’s having to deal with it and not me for once.”

“You’re a complete pain in the ass, you know that?” I said.

“So you’ve told me,” Roger laughed.

“Well, I guess I’d better go before I run my parents’ phone bill up any higher than it already is,” I said.

“Yeah, okay. It was good to hear your voice though,” Roger said quietly. “Oh, and I wanted to tell you that everything in your flat was fine.”

“Oh, good, thanks for stopping by there for us Rog,” I said. “I really do appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it,” Roger replied. “It doesn’t seem the same though, going there without seeing you. Freddie and I were both talking today about how things just aren’t the same here without the ducks around.”

“Well, it’s nice to know that we keep the two of you entertained with our eccentric behavior,” I said sarcastically.

“You really do!” Roger teased. “So hurry up and get back home, will ya?”

“It won’t be long now,” I said. “A few more days and we’ll be back in London.”

“All right. Well, it’s pretty late over here, so I guess I’d better get some sleep,” Roger said, stifling a yawn on the other end of the phone.

“Yeah, I’ll let you go. Sorry again that I called so late.”

“Aw, no worries,” Roger said dismissively. “Have a nice trip back, okay?”

“We will. Thanks Roger!”

“Okay, bye.”

“Bye.”

I hung up the phone and turned back to Brian, who wasn’t looking very happy with me.

“Why did you call Roger?” Brian asked, his lips pressing into a thin line.

“Because I thought that it might make you feel better to have some contact with one of your band mates again,” I answered firmly.

Brian just turned away and shook his head.

“Look, did he or did he not tell you that you have nothing to worry about, that they’re not going to rehearse or make any decisions without you, and that you should just relax and have a good time here in America?” I asked.

“Yes,” Brian answered. “But now you’ve made me feel like this petulant child who’s not getting his way.”

I stood up from the bed and threw my arms up in the air.

“I swear to God! I’m damned if I do and I’m damned if I don’t with you sometimes,” I grumbled. “All I wanted to do was help put your mind at ease, that’s all.”

“Look, you can’t always fix every problem for me, okay?” Brian said, sitting in an upright position on the edge of my bed. “I know that I can be moody and difficult, and I know that all of my worrying today probably doesn’t make much sense to you, but it makes sense to me. I’ve been working my arse off trying to get a break in the music business for five long years! You haven’t been there for most of it, so I don’t think you understand sometimes what I’ve been through. If there are going to be record executives at this Marquee gig, then everything has to be perfect! We have to look perfect and we have to sound perfect. So, yes, I’m worried. I’m worried that if we blow this, then we may not get another chance.”

“Well, you’re right about one thing,” I said angrily. “You’re moody and difficult, that’s for sure. But you’re wrong about _me_ being the one to make you feel like a petulant child who’s not getting his way. You’re doing a damn good job of that yourself.”

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” Brian said irritably, looking up to meet my eyes. He ran a hand through his hair and said, “Maybe I’m just tired and jetlagged. We’ve been going non-stop since we got here, you and I. Maybe I just need some rest.”

The doorbell rang, and my mom called out, “Pizza’s here guys!”

“You need to at least eat something,” I scowled at Brian. “Why don’t we go grab some pizza, and then you can do whatever you want.”

“Fine,” Brian replied peevishly.

We spent the rest of the evening in awkward silence. After we’d eaten our pizza, we both decided that it might be best if we just went to bed early and tried to get some sleep. Brian went to his room and I stayed in mine. I laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering how things had ended up in such a bitter argument between us. I was starting to realize something critical about our relationship. When it came to the way that we dealt with stressful situations, Brian and I were polar opposites. Brian seemed to want to hide away from the world and think about things quietly whenever something was bothering him, whereas I liked to talk about things and try to work through problems if at all possible. Thinking back over the day, perhaps I should have let sleeping dogs lie. Maybe I should have just given Brian some space to get over his worries on his own, but it just hurt me so much to see him upset. It was instinctual for me to want to comfort him and care for him and take away his pain. But with Brian, that was easier said than done sometimes.

I rolled over onto my side and started to quietly cry. Brian was everything to me. He’d become my best friend. When we weren’t talking it felt like a part of me was missing. I hated going to sleep feeling angry and unsettled.

I punched at my pillow and rolled over, settling myself in for a long night of tossing and turning and crying.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

I woke up the next morning feeling completely drained. My eyes were swollen and blurry, and my sinuses were aching from crying the night before.

I was still half asleep, feeling like I didn’t want to face the day, when a light knock sounded on my bedroom door, followed by Brian softly calling out, “Carrie? Are you awake?”

Before I had a chance to answer, the knob on my door slowly started to turn, and Brian’s adorable dark curly head was poking inside to see what I was doing.

“I’m awake,” I said in a hoarse voice, as I wiped the sleep out of my eyes.

“Can I come in?” Brian asked quietly.

“Of course,” I said.

He opened the door the rest of the way and came inside bearing a large white box and a steaming foam cup. I sat up in bed, trying to get a better look at what he had, and was shocked when I realized what it was.

He sat down on the edge of the bed next to me, and said, “I brought you something.”

“Winchell’s doughnuts?” I asked. “How on earth did you get these?”

“Well,” Brian began, “I know how you like good American doughnuts, and it occurred to me that you probably haven’t had any in nearly a year, so I asked your mum and dad if they knew of anyplace nearby that sold doughnuts, and your mum told me all about Winchell’s and how much you love their maple French crullers. At least, I think that’s what they’re called. Anyway, your dad was kind enough to take me over there.”

I just stared at Brian, completely dumbstruck by this sudden turn of events.

“I was only going to get a couple of the crullers you like, but your dad is apparently a fan of doughnuts as well, so he decided to get a whole dozen,” Brian smiled. He held out the hand that was clutching the foam cup and added as an afterthought, “Oh, and I got you some coffee too.”

“I can’t believe you went to Winchell’s,” I said, shaking my head, looking down at the warm foam cup that Brian had pressed into my hands. I peered at the contents, and saw that Brian had mixed in the perfect amount of cream, just the way I liked it.

“This is my very feeble attempt at telling you how deeply sorry I am about yesterday,” Brian said softly, looking up at me through thick, dark lashes. “I was a complete arse, and I’m so sorry. I know you were only concerned about me, and you were just trying to make me feel better, and I behaved very badly. I know that doughnuts and coffee can’t make up for the way that I acted, but I wanted to do something that would show you how much I love you, and that I was thinking about you all night last night.”

“I was thinking about you all night too,” I said, tears filling my eyes. “I can’t stand it when we fight. You’re my best friend. If I don’t have you, I don’t have anything.”

“Don’t cry, sweetheart,” Brian pleaded. “Please don’t cry. I’m so sorry.”

Brian set the doughnut box down on my bed, I set the coffee on my nightstand, and the two of us wrapped our arms around each other, holding on tight, as I continued to cry softly onto Brian’s shoulder.

“Shh,” Brian soothed, running his hand over my head, smoothing my hair in a loving caress. “Please stop crying. I love you so much.”

“I love you too, you know,” I sniffled. “I never meant to make you angry or upset with me. I just hate to see you worried or hurting, and I guess you’re right. Maybe I do try and fix things when I shouldn’t.”

“Look at me…” Brian said, leaning back to gaze into my eyes. “The only problem here is that I’ve actually got to get used to having someone in my life who cares enough to fix things. Your only crime is falling in love with one of the most difficult men in all of England.”

“You’re not one of the most difficult men in England…” I chuckled.

“No, I can be moody and sullen and a real pain in the arse to be around sometimes, I know,” Brian went on. “And the fact that you love me despite all of that means more to me than I can ever tell you.”

I gave Brian a watery, tear-stained smile, unsure of what to say.

“I know that its too much to hope that we won’t ever have another argument, but let’s at least try not to go to bed angry with each other again,” Brian said. “I can’t handle going to sleep and not being able to say goodnight to you or kiss you or hold you.”

“Me either,” I said quietly.

Brian gave me a sad smile as he wiped away the tears running down my cheeks, and then leaned over to give me a quick kiss on the tip of my nose.

“No more arguing for the rest of our holiday,” Brian whispered, leaning his forehead against mine. “I want to enjoy what few days we have left here in America, and I definitely want to enjoy my first ever Thanksgiving.”

I just laughed and wrapped my arms around him for another hug, savoring the feel of his soft, warm body pressed against mine once more. 

As it turned out, he’d gotten himself a cup of coffee as well, which was sitting in his bedroom, so he went to get it, and the two of us sat on my bed enjoying our sweet, fat-filled, American breakfast.

We spent the rest of the afternoon preparing for our Thanksgiving feast the following day. Brian watched as I made pumpkin pies from scratch and used the leftover piecrust for my traditional piecrust cookies. I also made some of my famous peanut blossom cookies as well, which I enlisted Brian’s help for, giving him the task of unwrapping each of the Hershey’s chocolate kisses that sat on the top of every peanut butter cookie. His mood continued to improve as the day went on, and we laughed and joked with each other the whole time that I was baking. All that was left now was to wake up the next morning, and let the feasting begin…


	56. Chapter 56

I woke up relatively early the next day, and felt a warm giddiness in my heart over the fact that I was in the States for Thanksgiving. I found myself pondering what the holiday would have been like if Brian and I had been back in England, and I shook my head at the very thought. Even though I would have undoubtedly made an entire American style feast, and would have invited all of our friends over to enjoy it, no one would have really understood the significance besides me, and I most likely would have spent the entire day trying to explain and defend American traditions to everyone rather than just enjoying them. And besides that, there would have been no football on TV to look forward to, and no Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade! Perish the thought indeed.

I jumped out of bed and ran across the hall to Brian’s room to see if he was awake. When I saw that he wasn’t, I quickly decided to change that fact.

“Happy Thanksgiving!!” I shouted as I leapt onto Brian’s bed, landing directly on top of him.

“Oh my God…” Brian grumbled, wiping his hair out of his eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Waking you up,” I replied, shaking him slightly as I straddled his hips. “It’s Thanksgiving!”

“Let me guess, this is what you used to do to your poor parents on Christmas morning, isn’t it?” Brian asked blearily.

“Of course!” I said cheerfully.

“Ugh, I think you’ve just given me a real insight as to what it’s going to be like to have children someday,” Brian yawned.

I gasped dramatically and said, “Are you accusing me of being childish?”

“Childlike,” Brian corrected. “Big difference.”

“Fine,” I sighed, pretending to be truly hurt. I slowly moved toward the edge of the bed, pouting, acting as though I were going to leave. “Since my childlike behavior is irritating you, then I guess I’ll just let you go back to sleep…”

Brian reached out and grabbed me around the waist, dragging me back onto the bed to snuggle up next to him.

“I think you know that I wouldn’t change a single thing about you,” Brian grinned, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek. “Think how dull my life would be if you weren’t in it.”

“God, it would be dull, wouldn’t it?” I teased. “Then again, you _would_ still have Freddie and Roger to liven things up.”

“Yes, except I couldn’t do this with either of them…”

Brian kissed me softly at first, and then deepened the kiss, wrapping me tightly in his arms.

I pulled away from him, brushed my finger across his stubbly chin and teased, “Well, you _could_ do that with Freddie or Roger, but there would be a lot more facial hair involved.”

“Ugh! Thank you very much for putting _that_ image in my head!” Brian cried, reaching up to rub his eyes as if trying to un-see what he just saw in his own mind.

I just laughed and said, “Come on! We’re going to miss the Macy’s parade.”

I dragged Brian out of bed, forcing him to put on a t-shirt and some pajama bottoms. He chose his new San Francisco shirt that he’d gotten at the airport, and my dad had never been so proud, as the two of us walked into the living room where my parents were already watching the parade on TV.

“Hey, all right!” my dad said to Brian. “Now _that’s_ a nice shirt.”

“You like San Francisco, I take it?” Brian smiled, as the two of us sat down on the couch.

“I was born in San Francisco,” my dad replied.

“Were you really? I didn’t know that,” Brian said. He turned to me and added, “You never told me that.”

I just shrugged, looking from Brian to my dad.

“Oh, yeah, sure. She doesn’t care about where I’m from,” my dad said with a crooked grin, waving my shrug aside.

“You know, I’m starting to see where you get your cynicism from,” Brian laughed, looking over at me.

“Hey, the 49ers are going to be on soon,” my dad continued on in a completely different vein.

“Are they? Excellent,” I replied.

“What are the 49ers?” Brian asked me.

“What are the 49ers??” my dad cried. He looked at me and asked in a tone of utter disbelief, “How can you be dating someone who doesn’t know who the 49ers are?”

“Uh, considering that I found him in England, quite easily,” I said.

I explained to Brian that the San Francisco 49ers were our favorite football team, and that one of the things that Americans looked forward to the most on Thanksgiving was watching football on TV. 

“So, you celebrate Thanksgiving by watching parades and American football and stuffing yourselves full of food?” Brian asked. 

“Welcome to America,” I grinned.

Brian shook his head slightly and said, “I’ve got to say, this is one of the strangest holidays I’ve ever heard of.”

When I viewed it through his eyes, then I supposed that it was.

The rest of the morning was spent stuffing the turkey, putting it in the roaster, and making some blueberry muffins and coffee for breakfast. We ate the muffins while watching the remainder of the parade on TV, and then it was time for football and snacks. I went into the kitchen and mixed up some onion dip mix and sour cream, and made a chips and dip platter along with a veggie plate consisting of carrots, celery, sweet and dill pickles, and black and green olives. I also brought out a plate full of the cookies that I’d baked the day before, and the feasting had officially begun.

The 49ers were just starting their game against the Dallas Cowboys, and Brian was fascinated by how the game was played, having never seen American football before. He asked me questions all throughout the game, and I provided the rudimentary rules for him, deferring to my dad for anything that I didn’t quite know the answer to. I was so excited see a football game again, since I hadn’t seen one in nearly a year, and I realized that there were indeed many things that I missed about America, football being one of them.

I cheered loudly as the 49ers made their first touchdown, and voiced my irritation as the Cowboys attempted to do the same. I was becoming agitated at the seeming lack of defense on the 49ers side, and when the quarterback for the Cowboys took his sweet time looking for a receiver to throw the ball to, with very little interference from the 49ers, I shouted at the TV, “Somebody sack his ass already!!” which garnered me some pretty strange looks from Brian.

“I had no idea you were this much of a football fan,” Brian grinned at me.

“Well, they never show American football in England, so I haven’t been able to keep up with it since I moved there,” I explained. “Believe me, if they’d televise it on the BBC, I’d be watching it all the time!”

“Why don’t you watch English football instead then?” Brian asked.

I just shook my head, and my dad pretty much summed up both our opinions when he snorted and said, “Soccer?! I’d rather watch grass grow!”

“There is nothing wrong with English football!” Brian protested. “And it’s a hell of a lot easier to understand than this. Why do they keep throwing those little yellow flags?”

“The guy was holding him!” my dad cried, pointing toward the TV as if it should be self-explanatory.

“Holding? Who was holding whom?” Brian asked, completely confused by the whole thing.

The rest of the game went on pretty much the same way, with either my dad or me having to explain most of what was happening to Brian. In the end, Brian just shook his head, deciding that American football wasn’t his thing. He seemed to find more amusement in watching my reaction to the game than in the game itself.

The day wore on and yet another football game was televised, this time it was the Detroit Lions versus the New York Jets. The turkey eventually finished cooking, and I left it to my dad to separate the meat and stuffing. I made the mashed potatoes and corn while my mom made the gravy, and Brian was put in charge of separating and placing pre-packaged rolls onto a large cookie sheet and popping them into the oven. The house smelled fantastic, the aromas of turkey and stuffing wafting through the air, teasing our hungry stomachs.

Soon the table was set and we were all gathered around saying grace, ready to start digging into our feast. Brian nibbled a little at the turkey and stuffing, but mainly filled up on potatoes, rolls and corn. Being a typical American, I ate greedily, savoring every morsel of my favorite meal of the whole year. My mom insisted that Brian needed to eat more when he was finished with his first plate, complaining that he was far too skinny. Not wanting to be impolite, Brian took a bit more, and I watched with concern as he tried to force it all down. When all was said and done, everyone’s stomach was more than full, and we practically needed to be carried away from the table.

Brian and I wandered back to my bedroom after eating and sprawled out across my bed, feeling half sick.

“So what’s supposed to happen next for Thanksgiving?” Brian groaned, stifling a burp. “Projectile vomiting?”

“Ugh, don’t talk about vomiting, or I just might,” I replied.

“Seriously, what do most Americans do on Thanksgiving after they’ve eaten enough to feed a horse?” Brian asked.

“Well, the usual options are, a. take a nap, b. go to the movies, or c. start putting up the Christmas decorations,” I answered.

“So is this when your Christmas season officially begins?” Brian asked, rolling slowly onto his side to face me.

“Yep, this is the exact moment,” I said. “As soon as the turkey and stuffing are put away it’s time to put the lights on the house and decorate the tree.”

I rolled over onto my side as well in order to face Brian, my stomach flopping over with the motion.

“But you know, the meal’s not over yet,” I warned him. “We still haven’t had the pumpkin pie.”

“Oh my God…” Brian groaned, lolling back onto his back. “You Americans are going to kill me with all this food!”

We decided that the best thing to do might be to just rest for a bit and try to digest at least part of what we’d eaten while we listened to some of the music we’d purchased at J&C House of Records. We made it all the way through Brian’s Slade album, playing the song _Mama Weer All Crazee Now_ twice because we both liked it so much, before my mom came back to my room looking for us to see if we were ready for pumpkin pie.

“Yeah, I think so,” I told my mom, rubbing my stomach in an attempt to send it a message to be ready for the next round of food. I looked at Brian, who still looked a little queasy from dinner, and said, “If you don’t want any, babe, don’t feel like you have to eat it.”

“No, no, I think I’ll be okay,” Brian said bravely. “But I think I just want a very small slice.”

I figured that I’d better be the one to go in and cut it for him then, otherwise, by American standards, he might end up with a quarter of a pie.

He’d never tasted anything made with pumpkin before, so he was a little apprehensive, but he gave it the old college try and ended up genuinely liking it. He even went so far as to say that he thought I should make some for everyone when we got back home.

Talking about home prompted my mom to ask him, “So Brian, are you homesick yet?”

“Maybe a bit. I miss the comforts and familiarity of our flat,” he said, and then quickly hastened to add, “but I really am having a nice time here.”

“Oh, well that’s good,” my mom drawled. “You sound just like me. I’d be missing the comforts of home too.”

“Well, it wasn’t always that way,” Brian admitted. “Before I met Carrie, I lived in a very small, rather depressing, sort of place, all on my own. Now that we’re living together, I love being at home. We cook and clean together, and she makes a huge mess with all of her schoolwork…”

He was looking at me and grinning as he said it. I punched him lightly on the shoulder, smiled and said, “Yeah, and so does he. Not to mention the fact that I’m always tripping over his guitar or having to find my schoolwork buried amongst all the half-written songs that are usually littering the coffee table.”

“Brian, do you write songs?” my mom asked in utter disbelief.

“I do,” he confessed.

“I’ve told you that, haven’t I mom?” I asked. “I was sure I told you that Queen writes and performs all of their own stuff.”

“Maybe you did and I just don’t remember,” my mom replied. “But I’d love to hear some of the things he’s written. You know, we’ve got a guitar in our bedroom closet. I’m sure it’s probably out of tune, but you’re welcome to play it Brian, if you like.”

“Sure, I’d love to,” Brian said graciously.

“Carrie, you know where that guitar is at, right?” my mom asked.

“I think so,” I said. I went back to my mom and dad’s bedroom closet and dug around a bit, and lo and behold, tucked away in a back corner was an old Martin acoustic guitar. I hauled it out to the living room and placed it directly in Brian’s hands.

“Ah, this is quite nice,” Brian said, already fiddling with the tuning knobs. “There seems to be a certain irony that a Martin guitar is owned by the Martins.”

Soon Brian had the instrument perfectly tuned, strumming it a few times to get the feel for it, and then looked at me and asked, “Well, what should I play?”

“Why don’t you play _Some Day One Day_ for them?” I suggested. I turned to my mom and proudly announced, “He wrote this song for me.”

Brian just smiled and strummed the opening chords, going straight into the opening line, “You’ve never heard my song before the music was too loud…”

I melted every time that I heard him sing what would forever be our song.

My mom had a similar reaction, clapping and oohing and aahing over the song as soon as Brian finished.

“Oh, Brian, that was beautiful!” my mom gushed. “I can’t believe you wrote that!”

“Well, I had quite a lot of inspiration for that particular one,” Brian blushed as the two of us gave each other a knowing smile.

By the time Brian was finished, he’d played the song _White Queen,_ which he’d had partially finished for quite some time, and even sang a couple of my mom’s favorite Beatles tunes. If my mom had liked Brian before, then she was completely besotted with him now. She was a sucker for any guy that had musical talent, but a sweet, smart, handsome guy who wrote romantic love songs for his girlfriend? Well, that was just too much.

After the little mini-concert, Brian asked my mom if she had any old photos of me that he could look at.

“Because the naked one of me in the hallway wasn’t enough for you?” I laughed.

“Hey, you got to see all kinds of embarrassing photos of me the first time you went to my parents’ house, so now it’s my turn for a little payback,” Brian smiled.

My mom had to dig around a bit, I was the last born after all, but eventually found the photo album that she’d filled with my baby and toddler pictures. I recalled having a couple of photo albums buried in my bedroom closet as well that had pictures from when I was slightly older, between the ages of about four and seven, so I went and dug those out too. Brian and I sat looking through the albums, laughing over pictures of me crawling across the floor, or sitting in my older sister’s lap crying, or pretending to play piano on our family’s old upright that no longer existed. 

By the time the evening wound down, the amount of food that we’d eaten throughout the day was starting to get to all of us. My dad went to bed early, leaving my mom and Brian and me in the living room yawning and stretching. It wasn’t like Brian or me either one to want to go to sleep early, but somehow it seemed like a fitting end for such a long, gluttonous holiday.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It was early the following morning that I was awoken by the sensation of someone trailing light feathery kisses down my neck and shoulder. I slowly opened my eyes to find that Brian had snuck into my bedroom and was lying next to me in bed.

“Good morning,” he whispered, smiling down at me.

“Good morning,” I smiled back. “I’m surprised to see you in here.”

“Your parents aren’t up yet,” Brian said. “And I had a question for you.”

“What’s that?” I asked, yawning and stretching as I rolled over to face him.

“How far of a drive is San Francisco?”

“Mm, about three hours. Why? You wanna go up there today?”

“Well, I figured today and tomorrow are pretty much our last two days of freedom before we have to start getting ready to head back home, and I would like to see San Francisco if we could,” Brian said.

I just laughed quietly and said, “You know, it seems funny to think about going back to England as ‘going home’, but I guess you’re right. That is going home for me now.”

I shook my head slightly as the impact of that statement really hit me. It was nice to visit my parents, and of course I loved California, but England truly felt like home to me now. I genuinely missed our flat and our friends, and of course, our little baby Harold. The more I thought about it, the more I wanted Monday morning to hurry up and arrive so that we could get back to the familiar sights of London.

I snapped out of my reverie and told Brian, “As far as going to San Francisco goes, that’s definitely doable.”

“Would we need to spend the night there?” Brian asked.

“Nah. San Francisco can totally be done as a day trip.”

“Even though it’s three hours there and three hours back?” Brian asked in disbelief.

“Yeah, I mean, we _could_ spend the night, but really, most of the things that you’re going to want to see can be done in a day,” I answered.

“Okay, well, I’ll defer to your expertise in these matters,” Brian acquiesced.

“If we are going to go, though, probably the sooner we could get on the road, the better,” I said.

We got up and quickly got dressed and ready, packing up our cameras and anything else we thought we might need. It was only seven o’clock when we left, and my parents still weren’t up, so I left them a note on the kitchen counter to let them know where we’d gone.

We headed north from Highway 99 to 152, and by the time we got to the tiny town of Los Banos, we were both ready for a stretch and a quick bite to eat. There was a small diner on Pacheco Blvd. where we stopped to get some toast, scrambled eggs and coffee, and then it was back on the road as soon as we were done.

We drove over the steep, winding hills of Pacheco Pass, through the town of Gilroy, otherwise known as the garlic capital of the world, and then on to Highway 101. Before long, we were heading directly into the heart of San Francisco and Brian was craning his neck trying to take in all the sights.

We spent the day at places like Fisherman’s Wharf, Golden Gate Park and the famous Lombard Street. We rode on a cable car, drove across the Golden Gate Bridge and back again, and visited the crazed hippies in the Haight / Ashbury area. Brian thought the hilly roads were fantastic, and I, of course, always loved looking at San Francisco’s historic Victorian architecture. We took lots of pictures everywhere we went, and even stopped by a typical kitschy souvenir shop where Brian picked out a small ceramic Golden Gate Bridge for our flat back home.

By three o’clock in the afternoon we were absolutely starving and stopped by a little Mexican restaurant to eat. I had to explain to Brian what a few of the things were on the menu, and eventually he settled on a cheese enchilada combo plate. I got the same, only with shredded beef instead of cheese. I wasn’t sure how much Brian would like Mexican food, but after watching him devour his entire plate, it was clear that he absolutely loved it.

“So, where to next?” Brian asked, as he shoved his empty plate across the table.

“Um, I don’t know,” I replied after swallowing a bite of enchilada. “Is there anything you can think of that you haven’t seen yet?”

“How about your college, Stanford? Isn’t it around here somewhere?” Brian asked.

“Yeah, it would actually be on the way home if you’d like to stop by,” I said.

“Will we have time before it gets dark?” Brian asked.

“We should have,” I answered, looking down at my watch.

I finished up my meal, we paid the bill, and we were back on the road again, this time heading south on Highway 101, eventually ending up in the small town of Palo Alto where Stanford was actually located. I took the University Drive exit, deciding that it might be fun to show Brian the places in old town Palo Alto that I’d become so familiar with over the past few years. There, on either side of the narrow street, were all of the establishments I’d frequented over the years, including the little mom & pop bookstores, my favorite coffee shop, and the old Stanford movie theatre. A flood of bittersweet memories washed over me, and it felt very surreal to be showing these landmarks to Brian, something I never dreamed I’d be able to do. Before we knew it, we were heading down the famous Palm Drive, the sprawling mission style edifice of Stanford looming in front of us. Since it was the Thanksgiving holiday and no one was around, I was able to find a parking place in front of the main quad with no difficulty.

Brian was very impressed with the campus and the beauty and style of the buildings as we meandered through the parking lot and up to the entrance of the quad, turning left down the archway-lined hall that led toward the history department. It seemed strange for me to be back amongst such familiar surroundings after being away for nearly a year. The bizarre thing was that the campus felt both familiar and foreign all at the same time. I chalked it up at first to nothing more than the fact that I’d been away for so long, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I just didn’t feel as much at home at Stanford anymore. The last time I had attended a class in Lane Hall, the part of the quad where the history department was located, was before I’d gone to England, before I met Queen, before I knew what I was missing 5,000 miles away on the other side of the world. I was accustomed to Kings College now, I felt comfortable there, and I knew that I had a warm and cozy flat to come home to at the end of every day – not to mention a warm and cozy boyfriend! When I was attending Stanford, I just sort of went through the motions everyday then went back home to my lonely apartment at the end of it all. I wasn’t happy back then, I realized, not compared to what my life had become since then.

And then it hit me, as I looked around at the brick lined hallway and warped glass windows that had once felt so familiar to me – in a year’s time, I was going to be right back at Stanford again. No Brian, no flat, no Queen in my life. I would be back in Palo Alto by myself, living alone again, and completely unsure of what my future might hold. How could I possibly go back to that again, after everything that I knew and had experienced in the past year? Every thought and feeling that I possessed revolted against it. Everything around me, every stone column, every cheery palm tree seemed repugnant now.

Before I even realized it, I was crying. Brian, of course, was completely insensible of my inner turmoil as he walked along, gazing into every nook and cranny that Lane Hall had to offer. It wasn’t until he paused at the row of curved windows at the end of the hallway and turned to ask me a question that he discovered that something was wrong.

“So where is the astronomy department lo…cat… What on earth is wrong?” Brian asked, the smile that had been gracing his countenance instantly fading.

I was crying so hard by that point that I couldn’t even answer him.

“Baby, what is it?” Brian urged, quickly closing the distance between us in order to wrap me up in his arms. “Is it because you miss this place?”

I just shook my head “no” against his chest.

“Well then what is it?”

I pulled away from him slightly and wiped the tears from my cheeks.

“It’s just that… Next year when you’re still in England, I’m going to be here, all alone, unable to see you everyday. It dawned on me as I looked around at these buildings, that this place is going to feel like a prison to me the next time I’m here. I don’t know how I’m going to cope.”

“Shh…” Brian soothed, pulling me toward him again and holding me tight. “I know. Trust me, I know. But we’ll get through it somehow, I promise.”

“It’s going to kill me to wake up every morning without you. You know that right? I won’t know what you’re doing or whether or not you’re okay…” I started crying even harder at the thought.

“Do you know why I wanted to come here?” Brian asked, pulling back a little so that he could look into my eyes as he cradled my face in his hands. “So that I could picture exactly where you’re going to be while you’re away from me. I couldn’t stand the thought of you being away at some foreign location that I couldn’t comprehend. I had to see this place, so that I could see it in my mind every time I think about you.”

I was surprised to see Brian trying to hold back the tears as he spoke.

“Trust me, I don’t want to see you leave England either. But I can’t be the reason that you don’t finish your degree. You do understand that, don’t you?” Brian asked.

“What if I don’t care about finishing my degree?” I cried. 

“You will care, someday. Think of all the time and effort you’ve put into your education. Before you met me, this was your dream. This was your goal. I don’t want that to change just because I’m in your life now.”

“I don’t know…” I said, shaking my head.

“Listen to me. We’re going to be together, I know we are. I have faith in us. A little time away from each other isn’t going to pull us apart. If anything, I hope it will make us stronger,” Brian said. “I love you, and no matter whether you’re five miles or 5,000 miles away from me, that’s never going to change.”

A fresh round of tears fell from my eyes over the conviction in his voice.

“Now come on,” Brian said, wrapping his arm around me and pulling me into his side. “I’d really like you to show me where your classes used to be.”

I agreed and wiped the tears from my eyes, leading Brian around the corner of the building to where the history classes were located. I gave him the best tour that I could, considering that everything was closed down for Thanksgiving. I walked him around my former classrooms, and we peeked through the windows so that he could get some idea of what the insides looked like. I took him to where the library was located, and showed him one of my favorite places directly behind the history department where I liked to sit outdoors and study on warm sunny days. It was just a small out of the way spot, with a circle of wooden benches surrounded by palm trees and shrubbery where no one ever seemed to bother me much. Brian made me promise him that every time he sent me a letter once I came back to the States, that I would sit in that very spot to read it so that he could form a picture in his mind of what I’d be doing and where I’d be at. I assured him that I would do just that, and we held each other tight as Brian tried his best to memorize the scenery of my secluded little sitting area.

After spending such a lovely afternoon in San Francisco, I hated the fact that the day had ended in such a depressing way. I found myself wishing that Brian had never asked me to take him to Stanford at all. The sight of my old school and the reality that I would be back there again in a year’s time, like it or not, was just too much for me to bear. By the time we finally left, I was more than happy to leave the place far behind us.


	57. Chapter 57

I was determined that the following day would be happier, and decided to take Brian out and about in Fresno, showing him some of the favorite places of my childhood. I took him to Belmont Dairy, where I introduced him to the best chocolate milk on the planet, then we went all the way out to Simonian Farms so that he could see first hand where I’d gotten the t-shirt that I had back home in England. He found a similar shirt, and decided that he had to have one for himself. We also bought some famous Fresno raisins to take home to Brian’s parents and Roger as well. Afterwards, we drove into downtown Fresno and the Tower District so that I could show Brian what few historical buildings my hometown still possessed, and from there we went to Fashion Fair Mall just to look around and grab a bite to eat.

Since Brian had expressed an interest in American drive-in movies, I decided that we’d go see one that night, since it was the last night before we had to start packing up and getting ready to head home. There really wasn’t much playing, but _Deliverance_ was still showing at the Sunnyside Drive-In. I really had no clue what the movie was about, only that it had something to do with hillbillies, so I sort of thought that perhaps it was going to be a comedy. How wrong can a person possibly be? I had no idea that the movie would involve back woods men in Georgia tying up and raping another man, amongst other things. By the time we left, Brian was terrified of the south and begged me never to say anything to him about squealing pigs.

By the next day, I was more than ready to start packing. I never thought when I first moved to London, with it’s big scary colleges, crowds of people and complicated bus systems, that I would ever feel like it was home, but now I couldn’t wait to get back there. I missed everyone so much! I missed Annie, Roger, and God help me, I even missed Freddie. I missed the feel of my comfy bed and getting to wake up next to Brian every morning. But mostly, I just missed our life together, living as adults without my parents watching over our every move as though we were children.

Monday morning finally dawned cold and foggy in typical late November Fresno style. Brian and I were up at the crack of dawn after getting very little sleep the night before, packing up what little we hadn’t already packed the day before. Suitcases, carry-ons, everything was stuffed to the gills with all of our things, including the multitude of souvenirs we’d purchased either for ourselves or for others. I had no idea how much we’d managed to accumulate over the ten days that we’d been in the States.

Our flight out of Fresno was an early one, so once we were sure that everything was packed and that nothing had been forgotten, we were out the door loading everything into the car. I said one last goodbye to my old bedroom and everything in it, said goodbye to all of the animals, especially Michie, and took one last look around at my old familiar house before slowly making my way out to the car. Even though I was looking forward to being back in England, leaving my parents and the place where I grew up behind was definitely bittersweet.

“Well, are you ready for that long flight again?” Brian asked, reaching for my hand as we settled into the backseat of my mom and dad’s Impala.

“The flight itself, no, but the final destination, yes, very much so,” I smiled.

The tiny Fresno air terminal was already bustling with people when we arrived. Once my dad found a parking place, we dragged everything out of the trunk and hauled it inside, waiting in line for what felt like an eternity to check our bags. Once that was settled, the four of us trudged down that long hallway that led to the boarding area, and I could already see our small puddle jumper sitting there on the tarmac, just waiting for us to climb on board. 

I could tell that my mom and dad were starting to get a little misty eyed over the fact that we were leaving, and I was putting off the final goodbyes as long as I could, trying to keep the conversation light hearted about all the silly things that had happened since we’d been in Fresno. But when the announcement came over the PA that United flight 493 to San Francisco was about to start boarding, the time for goodbyes had finally arrived.

My mom and I wrapped our arms around each other for a big hug, and immediately started crying.

“I can’t believe you’re going away again,” my mom sniffed. “It seems like you just got here.”

“I know,” I said quietly, savoring the warm comforting feel that only a mom can provide. “I’ll be back before you know it though.”

I reached up to hug my dad, and even he started to cry, as he said, “It was good to see you, pumpkin. Don’t be such a stranger, okay? Call home more often.”

“I will, Dad,” I said.

“Brian, very nice to meet you son,” my dad said, extending his hand toward Brian with a warm smile.

“Very nice to meet you too,” Brian said sincerely, taking the offered hand. “Thank you so much for all of your kindness, and I promise you that I’ll pay you back every penny for the plane ticket as soon as I can.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” my dad said with a dismissive wave.

“Yes, don’t worry about it Brian,” my mom chimed in. “We were happy to pay for your flight just so that we could meet you.”

“Well, I appreciate it, but my dad would never forgive me if I didn’t get you paid back eventually,” Brian smiled.

“Well, don’t you worry about it. If you’re able to pay us back someday then that’s fine, if not, then that’s okay too,” my mom told him. She stretched out her arms and said, “Now let me give you a hug before you get on that plane.”

Brian stooped down to wrap his arms around my mom as she squeezed him around his middle as tight as she could. I could tell that both of my parents genuinely liked Brian, and for that, I was extremely grateful.

“Send us some of those pictures once you get them developed, okay?” my mom said.

“We will,” Brian and I both promised.

“You guys have a safe trip, and be sure to call me as soon as you get back to London, even if it’s the middle of the night,” my mom said.

“We will,” we promised again.

We gathered up our things, slung our carry-on bags over our shoulders and said one last goodbye to both of my parents before walking through the little gateway that led out to the tarmac and onto our waiting plane. We turned around and waved one last time from the top of the staircase, and then it was back into the stuffy confines of an airplane for what we knew was going to be a long and arduous trip.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Fourteen hours later, including a short layover in San Francisco, we finally landed at Heathrow, completely exhausted and in desperate need to get up and stretch our muscles. We’d started out the journey dressed nicely, our hair fully coiffed, and looking completely refreshed. By the time we got off the plane, our clothes were wrinkled, Brian’s hair was smashed on one side, and I had bags under my eyes. So much for the grandeur and style of international traveling.

Brian and I were really only expecting to see his parents waiting at the gate when we got off the plane, so we were shocked when we practically received a hero’s welcome home from not only Harold and Ruth, but Roger, Freddie, Mary, John and Veronica as well.

“There they are!” Freddie exclaimed as we trudged inside the airport from the freezing, drizzly weather outside.

Smiling faces greeted us all around, and soon we were inundated with hugs. Ruth threw her arms around Brian first, happy to see that her boy was safe and sound, then turned to give me a quick hug as well. Harold clapped his son on the shoulder, asking him how the trip had gone, and Roger, I noticed, was standing a few feet away from me with an expectant smile affixed to his face. I smiled back at him and held my arms out, beckoning him to come over and give me a hug.

“I’m glad to see that you made it back okay,” Roger said quietly, the two of us wrapping our arms around each other for a hug that probably lasted a little too long for two people that were just supposed to be friends. He pulled away from me looking a little sheepish, and said, “So what did you bring me?”

“Good Lord, Roger, is that all you ever think about?” Freddie admonished, as he stepped up to give me a hug next. He flashed me a big toothy grin and wrapped his arms around me, telling me how boring London had been since Brian and I had been gone.

I received a quick hug from John, Mary and Veronica as well, as all the guys clapped Brian on the back, one by one, telling him that he looked like hell after the long flight home.

We all laughed and joked a bit, but really, Brian and I were both so tired that we could barely think straight.

“So when are we going to hear all about the trip?” Roger demanded with a big grin.

“I tell you what,” Brian began. “Let Carrie and me rest for a day or two and get our photos developed, and we’ll invite everyone over when we’re able to think clearly again. How does that sound?”

“A day or two? You’re going to keep us in suspense that long?” Roger asked.

“Roger dear, can’t you see that they’re exhausted?” Ruth smiled warmly at him.

“Yeah, all right,” Roger conceded.

“We’ve only been up for 24 hours,” Brian said sarcastically. “I guess it might be a good idea to get some sleep.”

We said our goodbyes to everyone except Brian’s mom and dad, and thanked them all for coming out and giving us such a warm welcome home. Freddie and Roger said that they needed to get over to Kensington Market to open up their stall anyway, and Mary had to get to work at Biba. We all went our separate ways, with Brian and me leaving with Harold and Ruth once we got our baggage, so that we could stop by their house and pick up that cat and the car.

It was already the next morning from when we’d left Fresno, and it seemed very strange to walk outside and see what little light there was in the sky coming from an easterly direction, as if time had been completely suspended since we’d left California. It occurred to me that we’d basically lost a day during our trip home, and just trying to wrap my brain around that fact made me even more tired than I already was. Brian was right, we did need some sleep.

It took us only a few minutes to get to Harold and Ruth’s, and even though I was tired, I was thrilled to see my little kitty again. I was worried that he might not recognize Brian or me after we’d been gone so long, but as soon as he saw us, he meowed and hooked his tail, beckoning us to pick him up and love him.

“Aw, our baby’s happy to see us, Daddy,” I said, holding little Harold out toward Brian.

“Hey Harold,” Brian crooned, taking the cat from my arms and scratching him behind his ears. Harold just purred and closed his eyes contentedly, obviously happy to see that we were home.

“Daddy?” Ruth laughed at my comment. “Does that mean we’re this cat’s grandparents?”

“Well, it’s good practice for when you have real grandchildren,” Brian laughed.

“Let’s hope there’s a wedding first before that happens,” Brian’s dad said, patting his son on the back as he walked past him.

Brian and I just grinned at each other and rolled our eyes a little, as if to say, it’s time to get home and away from all these annoying parents once and for all!

We packed up the cat, transferred our luggage from Harold’s car to Brian’s Mini, and thanked both Harold and Ruth heartily for watching our little baby for us. We told them that we’d call in a couple of days to see if we could all get together and show them our photos, to which they eagerly agreed, and then we were off, with poor Brian driving into London bleary-eyed and half-asleep.

Somehow we made it home in one piece, dragging our tail feathers as we hauled little Harold, suitcases and carry-on bags up the stairs one thing at a time. I could have practically kissed the front door of our little flat, and the walls, and the bed – it felt so good to be home! Harold scampered out of his little cage, clearly happy to be home as well, and ran directly for the kitchen to where his food dishes were usually located. I unloaded his dishes, filling them up with dry food and water, while Brian dragged the suitcases and bags into our bedroom. Once everything was in we locked the front door, made a quick call to my mom to let her know that we were home safe and sound, and dragged our feet all the way into the bedroom where we peeled off our clothes and collapsed onto our soft comfy bed to fall sound asleep for the next few hours.

It felt so good to wake up that afternoon snuggled up next to Brian in our own bed, with no parents hovering over us, telling us what we were and were not allowed to do. Finally, we were able to get back to our own lives once again. It was the first time I’d really been able to relax in days. 

Brian and I both felt much better after our nap, but were both extremely hungry after the long trip home. We walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge to see what there was to eat, and it was obvious that Roger had cleared us out over the last ten days of housesitting. The milk was gone, the eggs were gone, and of course, the beer was most definitely gone.

“He drank my beer?” Brian griped. “The other stuff I don’t mind, because it might have spoiled, but he didn’t need to drink my beer!”

“Oh well. Consider it his payment for housesitting, I guess,” I said.

“Yeah, but that was a whole brand new six-pack of Guinness!” Brian complained.

“Sweetheart, we can buy you more,” I soothed, closing the fridge and rubbing his back lightly. “We obviously need to go to the store anyway, and we can take the film with us to be developed.”

We got dressed quickly, donning long sleeved shirts, warm coats and scarves for the short walk to our local Boots. Both of us had a few frames left on each of our cameras to use up before we could take the film out, so we snapped a few shots of each other, or the cat, and gathered up our mountain of used film to take in to be developed. Our coat pockets jangled and clanked with the sound of film cartridges jostling around inside them as we bounded down the stairs and out into the cold, grey London air.

We held hands all the way to Boots, both of us blissfully happy to be back home and back to our old familiar routines. Luckily, the company that came by everyday to collect the film and develop it hadn’t come by yet, which meant that our pictures would be ready within the next couple of days if we were lucky. Brian and I quickly scribbled our information on each paper envelope, dropping a roll of film inside when we were done, and placed them inside the bin for collection. Even though this entire process was fairly routine for the two of us, I could always see a slight look of concern etched into Brian’s features every time he had to let his rolls of film go. He was always worried about how his precious photos would be treated, and whether or not they would come back to him developed properly.

“Come on,” I said, dragging him away from the tiny photo counter. “They’ll be fine. Now let’s go to the corner market and get some food.”

We stocked up on milk, cereal, eggs, bread, butter, some ingredients for dinner, cat food, and of course, Brian’s beer, amongst other things. We walked home completely loaded down with bags, and it felt good to see food in the fridge again. We made some egg salad sandwiches for a late lunch, and of course, I couldn’t go for very long without some homemade cookies, so I decided to whip up a batch. Brian, of course, couldn’t go very long without playing his beloved guitar, so while I baked the cookies, he sat on the couch with the volume low on his amplifier, strumming out songs and riffs as they popped into his head. I absolutely loved watching him play. He always looked so sexy with that guitar of his propped up on his lap, a look of concentration etched into his countenance as he bit his lip or shook a stray curl out of his face. I couldn’t help but stare at him from the doorway of the kitchen as he played, wondering for the millionth time how I’d gotten so lucky, nearly burning a pan full of cookies in the process.

Once my baking was done, Brian and I decided to spend the rest of the evening tackling the task of putting away everything from our trip. There was a lot to sort through, including a mountain of dirty clothes that were now going to have to be washed. We separated everyone’s gifts, and found the perfect spots for all the things we’d purchased for ourselves. The records were filed away with all the others, and the little ceramic Golden Gate Bridge was placed at the front of one of our bookshelves, as was Brian’s skull and my candles and candleholders from Disneyland. Definitely an eclectic mix of stuff, I had to admit, but then again, that pretty much summed up Brian and me and our oddball tastes.

The next couple of days were very quiet for us, which was exactly how we both wanted it. It felt so nice to be back home where we could sit on our own couch and just watch TV or listen to some music or do whatever we wanted to do without parents breathing down our necks. It also felt good to be back at school and back in my usual routine. I had mountains of work to get caught up on before the end of my semester, but I knew that I could do it if I put my nose to the grindstone. And, of course, it was great to see Annie again and fill her in on how the trip had gone.

Soon the two days of rest and relaxation came to an end, though, and we were ready to get everyone together to tell them about the trip and show them the photos that we’d gotten back from the store. We decided that Friday night was the night, and invited Freddie, Mary, John, Veronica, Roger and Brian’s parents over for some pizza and beer. 

We made the place as neat and tidy as possible, making sure that we had plenty of clean dishes for everyone to eat off of, and ordered enough pizza for a small army. I was happy when Harold and Ruth showed up first, so that they could have first choice of what little seating we had to offer. Brian showed them all of the little knick-knacks we bought ourselves in California, and they were fascinated with the small ceramic Golden Gate Bridge. Ruth thought that my candlesticks were lovely, but it was a shame that they had to be placed right next to the hideous skull that her son had picked out.

“Honestly, Brian,” Ruth said, picking up the skull and turning it over in her hand. “Of all the nice things you could have gotten yourself at Disneyland, why on earth a skull?”

“I liked it,” Brian grinned and shrugged.

We all laughed and chatted a bit more about the trip, and Harold and Ruth told us about a new neighbor that had moved in just down the street from them while we were gone. Then, seemingly from out of nowhere, the conversation turned to my schoolwork and Brian’s with Harold asking his son how his thesis was coming on.

Brian’s face clouded over slightly at the mention of his paper, but he covered it well and said, “Fine. I’ve got a few more revisions and then hopefully it will be done.”

“When do you see your professors next?” Harold went on, and thankfully, right at that moment a knock sounded at the door.

“Um, hold that thought, Dad, while I get the door,” Brian said quickly, thankful for any excuse to escape his father’s questions.

It ended up being Freddie and Mary, who had barely come in and said hello to everyone when another knock sounded, followed by the entrance of Roger and John. I asked John where Veronica was at, and was told that she had a family get together at her parents’ house that evening, and therefore couldn’t come.

“Hello Mr. and Mrs. May,” Roger said politely while Brian and I dragged our kitchen chairs out into the living room.

“Hello Roger,” Ruth smiled. She and Harold had found the most comfortable seats in the living room at opposite ends of our couch. “What have you been up to since we saw you at the airport on Tuesday?”

“Not much,” Roger shrugged as he, John, Freddie and Mary took a seat on each of the far more uncomfortable kitchen chairs. “Freddie and I have just been busy with the stall.”

Another knock sounded at the door, and it dawned on me that it must be the pizza, which I’d almost forgotten was being delivered. Brian and I went to the door, paid the man, and unburdened him of the stack of pizzas he was holding, carrying them over to the coffee table so that everyone could help themselves.

“Are the two of you still running that stall at Kensington Market?” Ruth asked.

“Yeah, but it may not be for much longer,” Roger confessed. “I’m getting a bit fed up with it.”

“Really?” Brian asked, popping open the pizza containers while I went in the kitchen to grab a stack of plates and napkins. “When did you decide this? You and Freddie have been running that stall for ages.”

“I don’t know,” Roger shrugged. “I feel like Fred and I are just spinning our wheels with the whole thing. I mean, we’re not really getting anywhere with it, are we? It’s not as if we’re going to become haberdashers or something. I’d much rather be spending my time working on our music than selling a load of old tat.”

“Ah ha! You finally admit that it’s a load of old tat! I’ve been telling you that for years!” Brian exclaimed.

“Yeah, yeah. Well, some of it is,” Roger admitted. “Most of it’s all right. I guess I’m just getting a bit tired of the whole thing. I’m wasting time that I could use for rehearsing or writing songs or something productive. And it’s not as though we’re making a killing selling the stuff.”

“Roger’s just giving up too easily,” Freddie grumbled, shaking his head.

“So what will you do, Freddie, if Roger leaves?” I asked, setting the plates and napkins next to the pizza. “Are you still going to run the stall on your own?”

“I’ve talked to our friend Alan, who runs the stall across from ours, and he’s offered to help me out for a bit until I decide what to do,” Freddie replied.

“Wow,” I said somewhat solemnly. “It sounds like it’s going to be the end of an era.”

“You and I certainly wouldn’t be together if it wasn’t for that stall, would we?” Brian smiled down at me.

“That we wouldn’t,” I smiled back. I looked around the room at everybody and asked, “Okay, what do you all want to drink?”

Brian and I went in the kitchen to fetch beer for everyone, except for Ruth who asked for a Coke, and then squeezed in where we could find seats. I ended up in the armchair at the end of the coffee table that we’d brought over from Brian’s place, and Brian asked his parents to scoot over so that he could sit near me at the end of the couch. Everyone grabbed a couple slices of pizza and started to laugh and joke around, and it was obvious that Harold and Ruth felt a little uncomfortable around all of us loud, obnoxious kids.

“Is this how the two of you always eat?” Harold teased, taking a bite of his pizza. “Don’t you sit at the table?”

“Most of the time we do,” Brian answered, "but sometimes it’s nice to just relax while we eat.”

“It’s my fault I’m afraid,” I added. “My bad American habits have rubbed off on Brian I think.”

“Did you eat like this growing up then?” Ruth asked. “Or did you sit with your parents around a table?”

“Well, my dad worked odd hours most of the time,” I replied. “So it was usually just my mom and me, and generally it was easier to grab something quick to eat and sit in front of the TV at dinner time.”

I could tell by the strange little nod that both Harold and Ruth gave me that they thought the whole thing was very odd indeed.

“That sounds amazing to me,” Roger suddenly chimed in. “I wish I had a mum that would have let me sit in front of the TV and eat dinner.”

I flashed Roger a quick smile, thankful for his support.

The rest of the meal went a little better with everyone chatting about this and that, and soon we were clearing the plates and pizza containers away and breaking out the stacks of photos that Brian and I had taken in America. I scooted my chair a little closer to Brian so that I could help him sort through the pictures and show them to everyone in order. We passed them around starting with Harold and Ruth to our right, and one by one every photo made the rounds. We fielded questions about Disneyland, Hollywood, Yosemite, San Francisco, and even my old neighborhood and house. When pictures of the latter two in particular were being passed, I noticed that Roger paused over them the longest, studying the place where I’d grown up and the faces of my parents.

“So this is the famous Fresno?” he asked at last, looking up and smiling at me.

He was sitting directly to my left, so I leaned over to see exactly what picture he was looking at.

“That’s the famous Fresno,” I laughed, looking at a photo that Brian had taken of my street from out in front of my house. “Or at least a very small portion of it.”

“Wait, is this your car?” Roger asked as the next picture made its way around.

“Yep, that’s my Camaro that I’ve told you so much about,” I replied.

“Did you get to ride in this, Bri?” Roger questioned, as he held up the photo for Brian to see.

“I did,” Brian confirmed. He looked at me and added, “Where was the farthest we took your car? Los Angeles?”

“Yeah, L.A., Disneyland,” I said.

“This may be the most jealous I’ve ever been of you,” Roger said to Brian.

“You, jealous of me??” Brian exclaimed sarcastically. “Will wonders never cease?”

“Yeah, well, don’t let it go to your head,” Roger grumbled, as he continued to study the picture of my car. “There’s always a first time for everything.”

Once all the photos had been passed around and everyone’s questions had been answered about Mickey Mouse, the Golden Gate Bridge or Giant Sequoias, Roger demanded to know what we’d brought back for all of them.

“You’re worse than a child, you know that?” I laughed.

“Hey, I’ve been waiting patiently!” Roger argued with a mischievous grin.

“Fine, let me go get everyone’s stuff,” I said.

I walked into the bedroom where Brian and I had everything stashed away and came back out a few moments later bearing bags with “Simonian Farms” or “Disneyland” or “Hollywood Souvenir Shop” emblazoned across the front in bold letters.

I took my seat next to Brian again, and reached into the Hollywood bag, pulling out three separate t-shirts with the Hollywood sign printed on the front of each.

“These are for all three of you,” I said, handing one to John first, then Freddie then Roger. All three of the guys studied the design on each of their shirts and seemed genuinely excited about them. I reached back into the same bag and pulled out the Hollywood coffee mugs and postcards that we’d gotten for Harold and Ruth, and passed them over to Brian so that he could give them to his mom and dad.

“Sorry we didn’t get a chance to actually mail the postcards to you,” Brian smiled as he handed the items to his parents. “But better late than never I guess.”

“Oh, son, you didn’t need to get us anything at all!” Harold said, as he studied his coffee mug. “You should have used the money for something else.”

“Dad, I wasn’t about to go all the way to America and not bring something back for you and mum. And there’s more in the bags, so brace yourselves,” Brian laughed.

I dipped into one of the Disneyland bags next, and pulled out the candle for Ruth and the pipe and tobacco for Harold. I could tell as we passed them their things that they were genuinely tickled with the gifts, but both of them had to protest yet again that we’d spent way too much on them. Brian and I continued to argue that we hadn’t, and I reached into another Disneyland bag to find the Mouse ears that we’d gotten the guys. I found each of their names and passed the hats around to their rightful owners with much enthusiasm and excitement. Freddie, of course, had to don his right then and there and didn’t take them off for the remainder of the night.

There were just a couple other small things in the Disneyland bag, which consisted of Roger’s Marlboros and some Disneyland matchbooks. I held the cigarettes and one of the matchbooks out to Roger and said, “These are just for you. We got them at the tobacco shop at Disneyland, and if you look on the bottom of the cigarettes, you’ll see that they have the state of California seal.”

“Oh wow!” Roger said, turning over the pack of Marlboros in his hand, looking for the special mark. “Now I don’t know if I want to smoke them!”

“Go ahead and smoke them,” I laughed. “Just save the package with the seal when you’re done.”

I dug around in the last remaining bag, which was the Simonian Farms bag, and pulled out a pack of raisins for Brian’s parents and one for Roger.

“You remembered!” Roger laughed.

“Of course I remembered,” I smiled. “I knew I’d never hear the end of it if I didn’t bring you some raisins.”

Of all the things I gave Roger, the raisins seemed to mean the most, as he broke open the plastic packaging and popped a few into his mouth.

“These are really good,” he said at last. “Sweeter than I thought they’d be.” He reached over to give me a quick hug and added, “Thanks for everything, it was really nice of you two to think of all of us.”

“Yes, thank you for everything!” Freddie, John and Brian’s parents all said, with Ruth reaching over to give Brian a hug as well.

It was starting to get a little late, so Harold and Ruth decided that it was time to head back home before the drizzle outside turned into full-blown rain. Everyone else decided that they might as well go too and gathered up their things, saying thank you one last time to Brian and me for the presents and for the pizza. We told them that we were happy to do it, and by the time everyone was walking out the door, we’d made plans to get together the following night at the Kensington to play some pool.

We all said our goodbyes, and Brian and I were happy to have the place back to ourselves. We cleaned up a bit, tossing the pizza trays in the trash and dumping the dirty dishes in the sink, before cuddling up on the couch for a nice quiet night in front of the TV. God it was good to be back home.


	58. Chapter 58

The following morning I woke up from a very strange dream. I was walking through a warm sunny field full of gorgeous golden California poppies, breathing in the fresh Springtime air, and I was so happy that the weather was nice and not freezing cold London with it’s perpetually grey skies. I was running through the tall green grass, reveling in the warmth, when suddenly there was a large Golden Retriever at my feet. He was rubbing against my legs trying to get me to pet him, and when I reached down to do just that, he reared his head up and bit me in the backside, tugging at the back pocket of my jeans until I was knocked backwards. It felt so real that I jumped in my sleep and slowly opened my eyes. I was lying on my stomach, somehow the shorts that I’d been wearing the night before were gone, and as it turned out, the Golden Retriever was, in fact, Brian, underneath the covers, running a hand up and down the inside of my thigh while he playfully bit the left side of my rear.

“Can I help you?” I mumbled, still half asleep.

Brian popped his head out from under the blankets with a goofy grin plastered to his face, his dark curls sticking up in every direction, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Do you realize that we haven’t had sex since we’ve been back in England?” he asked me.

“Mm, we haven’t, have we?” I asked.

“In fact, if my calculations are correct, we haven’t had sex in about twelve days,” Brian informed me.

“No… Seriously?” I asked, rolling over onto my side. “My God, how have we survived? This has got to be the longest we’ve gone since we’ve been together!”

“Well, the dry spell ends now…” Brian said, pulling me toward him for a long, passionate kiss.

Neither one of us were wearing much in the way of clothing, but what few garments we did have on were quickly torn off and tossed carelessly around the room, most of the items being chased down by the cat, who was lying on the bed and watching our progress with fascination.

“God, it’s been way too long…” Brian breathed before moving over the top of me and capturing my mouth with his again.

I nodded my agreement as I tangled my fingers in Brian’s soft curls, breathing in his clean familiar scent and reveling in the feel of his warm body pressed into mine.

“I hope you’re ready, cause I’ve got to have you…now…” Brian said in a gruff whisper, his beautiful hazel eyes filled with desire.

“I’ve been ready for the past twelve days,” I smiled.

Brian let out a cross between a growl and a sigh, as he wasted no time spreading my legs apart with his knees. My breath caught in my throat as he pushed deep and hard inside of me. I whimpered and cried, clutching Brian’s body to mine, as I wrapped my legs around him, desperate to feel our bodies joined in every way possible.

We moaned and sighed into each other’s greedy mouths, kissing until we were breathless, as Brian drove harder and faster inside of me. His body felt so good, I couldn’t get enough of him.

“Oh my God how I’ve missed this…” I breathed.

Brian rolled over onto his back, taking me with him, my long blonde hair cascading over him as he grasped my bottom with both hands, continuing to push deeper inside of me. I was practically screaming with desire now, as every inch of Brian’s hardness filled my body. I bent low over the top of him to kiss and suck on his neck and chest, making him gasp with pleasure.

“God, yes…” he moaned, tangling his long fingers in my hair.

I lowered my mouth to Brian’s for a fiery kiss, our bodies moving in unison with each other’s, our whimpers and cries getting louder as we both felt our climaxes coming fast. 

“Brian…” I cried. “Oh, God… Brian…”

I clutched onto Brian’s arms for support as wave after wave of pleasure rolled over me, making me feel weak all over.

“Oh baby, yes…” Brian gasped before pushing all the way into me one last time. He whimpered and moaned as he came deep inside of me, tossing his head back on the bed and biting his bottom lip. He was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen, and I had to have him again as soon as humanly possible.

He seemed to be reading my thoughts exactly.

“You know we’re not done, right?” he gasped, brushing my hair back out of my face and tucking it affectionately behind my ears.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” I smiled before lowering my lips down to his for a breathless kiss.

Brian rolled me back onto my back, kissing his way down my neck until he came to my breasts. He took each of them into his mouth, one at a time, sucking and teasing my nipples until I whimpered with desire. His long curly hair was tickling my skin, sending chills across my body. God how I loved his hair, I thought to myself, scrunching my fingers into it as he continued to suck and kiss my breasts.

“I’ve got an idea,” Brian said breathlessly, raising his eyes up to look at me. “When was the last time we took a shower together?”

“It’s been a while,” I answered.

“Come on,” he said firmly, climbing off the bed and reaching for my hand. 

I took the offered hand, and quite willingly allowed him to lead me into the bathroom, where he turned the water on for the shower full blast. As soon as the water was warm enough we both climbed inside closing the curtain and allowing the water to wash over us. It didn’t take long before we were tangled up in each other’s arms again, our mouths devouring each other’s, as the hot water spilled down over our heads.

Brian reached for the bar of soap and we took turns lathering up each other’s bodies until we were completely clean and ready to get dirty all over again. Brian pressed my back against the cool tile lining the wall, and started kissing his way down my neck as his right hand roamed down the front of my body. His long slender fingers found the sensitive flesh between my legs, and I whimpered and cried as he slid them deep inside me, moving them in and out until my knees were weak with desire. He started kissing lower, until he was on his knees in front of me gently pushing my legs apart, burying his face between my thighs. I gasped and grabbed onto the metal bar above the recessed soap dish with one hand, and the pipe leading to the shower head with the other, holding on for dear life as Brian’s mouth worked some serious magic.

“Oh fuck…” I gasped, barely able to catch my breath.

He slid his fingers back inside of me while his tongue continued to move slowly back and forth, driving me absolutely crazy. I grasped his gorgeous wet head with my hands, pressing him even closer to my body until I felt myself getting ready to come.

“Brian…Oh God!” I screamed, as my entire body shook beneath his touch.

“Like that baby?” Brian asked, smiling up at me with a wicked grin, as his fingers continued to move slowly inside of me.

“Mm-hmm,” I whimpered.

“Ready to trade places?” he asked hopefully.

“Oh yeah…” I breathed.

Brian stood back up and placed his hands against the wall on either side of me, his mouth coming down hard over mine for a fiery kiss that left me breathless. I reached down to grasp his long hard shaft with my hand, and began moving over him until he was whimpering in my mouth. I kissed my way down his body until I was on my knees, the warm water from the shower raining down over my head. I ran my tongue up the entire length of his shaft before taking the tip of his hard cock into my mouth, sucking and teasing and driving Brian crazy. He wrapped his hands around my wet head as he pushed himself even deeper inside of me, gasping and moaning with every stroke.

“Oh, fuck…” he moaned. “Take it all the way in, baby…”

I opened my mouth as wide as I could and did as I was asked, taking Brian all the way in, his huge cock filling my throat. I held it for as long as I could until I was forced to come up for air. I continued sucking and licking him, and as soon as I caught my breath, I took him all the way in again. I did this over and over until Brian let me know in no uncertain terms that he was about to come. He pulled out of my mouth quickly, aimed for my chest, and came all over my tits, turning me on even more than he already had.

He helped me back up into a standing position and plunged his tongue deep into my mouth, kissing me with a desire that almost seemed manic. We just couldn’t seem to get enough of each other. Even though we had both already reached our climax twice, it was obvious that we wanted more.

We kissed and fooled around a bit longer in the shower, waiting as patiently as possible for Brian to be ready again. We decided to head back out to the bed and got out of the shower, quickly drying off, before slipping between the sheets. Our greedy mouths were all over each other again within seconds, kissing, licking and sucking any bit of skin we could get our hands on. Thankfully it didn’t take long before Brian was hard and ready once more. I was so wet and eager that it was almost becoming physically painful.

Brian moved between my legs and pushed himself deep inside of me, relieving me of my agony. He positioned himself up on his knees as he lifted my legs into the air, kissing and licking my ankles as he moved even faster inside me, making me scream with desire. I held onto the blankets and sheets with a death grip as he pounded me harder and harder, until I could barely catch my breath.

He suddenly grabbed me around the waist, and told me that he wanted to feel me on top again, as he flopped over onto his back, pulling me on top of him. He’d looked so sexy when I’d been on top before that I certainly didn’t mind, and started moving over Brian as hard and fast as I could, clinging to his shoulders to keep myself steady. It was at that moment that we both realized that someone was knocking on our front door.

“Just ignore it,” Brian breathed. “They’ll go away.”

But they didn’t go away. Instead, we heard a key turn in the lock, and soon we heard Roger’s voice calling out, “It’s just me! I forgot to give you your key back last night!”

I was expecting Brian to stop and run to close our bedroom door, which was wide open, but he didn’t, the two of us just stayed right where we were at. Roger, meanwhile, had discovered where we were and what we were doing, and was standing near our bedroom door looking inside like a deer caught in headlights.

“Oh, Jesus Christ!” Roger exclaimed, raising a hand up to partially block his line of sight. “Are you two...? Fuck me, yes you are…” Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I heard Roger mumble, “I’ll just… um… I’ll just come back in a bit…” and he turned to walk back out the front door, shutting it hard as he went.

I felt a pang of guilt for a very brief moment, but then I realized that Brian was still completely hard, and everything else was instantly forgotten. It didn’t take either of us long to reach our climax, and soon we were both lying side by side, sweaty and exhausted, between the sheets of our bed, with smiles planted firmly on our faces.

“Oh my God, woman. You’re going to wear me out,” Brian gasped, wiping the damp hair out of his face as he tried to catch his breath.

“Me?” I cried. “What about you? I can’t even feel my fingers and toes anymore from breathing so hard!”

Brian laughed and rolled over to face me, his eyes glinting mischievously as he said, “I’d say that this has been a nice morning so far, what about you?”

“Nice?” I exclaimed. “Just nice?”

“Okay, okay, maybe nice isn’t the right word,” Brian laughed, trailing kisses down the length of my arm. He looked up at me then and asked, “Do you have any idea how crazy you make me? Are all American girls as sexy as you?”

“I’ve never had sex with an American girl, so I couldn’t tell you,” I replied teasingly.

“You haven’t had sex with any _other_ nationality of girl, have you?” Brian asked, mouth open slightly.

“No, of course not!” I laughed.

“Okay, just asking,” Brian said, giving me a crooked grin. “That did put a nice visual in my head though…”

“Oh my God!” I cried. “Are you telling me that seeing me with another girl would turn you on?”

“Well, you know, maybe just a kiss or something,” Brian laughed.

“I swear to God, you men are all alike!” I said, smacking Brian lightly on the arm.

“Ow!” he whined, rubbing his arm as though I’d actually hurt him. “I’m just being honest!”

“Were you as shocked as I was to see Roger come in?” I asked, trying to quickly change the subject. “I can’t believe that you just stayed put and didn’t run over to shut the door!”

“I wasn’t stopping for anything or anybody,” Brian said firmly. “It’s been way too long since you and I have been able to have this kind of fun without the prying eyes of parents watching our every move, and I wasn’t going to let Roger get in the way.”

I laughed, snuggling up against Brian’s side. “Did you see the look on his face?”

“Well, turn about is fair play. I had to see the two of you in a compromising situation at one point if my memory serves me correctly, so he got a dose of his own medicine,” Brian said.

“You’re certainly feisty today,” I grinned, making little swirly patterns along Brian’s chest with the tip of my finger. “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen this side of you before. I kind of like it.”

“Oh, please…” Brian groaned dramatically. “If you’re asking for more sex, you’ve got to at least feed me and let me get a bit of rest first.”

I laughed out loud and started kissing his neck and chest, just to see what kind of reaction I’d get.

“Oh Lord…” Brian sighed. “You know, now that I think of it, food and rest are both highly overrated…”

We fooled around a bit longer, but it became apparent pretty quickly that we were both too tired and hungry to go any further. We put our PJs back on and wandered into the kitchen, looking for some breakfast. We were both too tired to make anything very time consuming, so we decided that a nice quick bowl of cereal was our best bet. 

We were sitting at the table, joking about how we wished that Brian’s dad could see us eating like proper well-mannered human beings, when another knock sounded at the door. Brian got up to answer it, and all I could see were Roger’s big blue eyes peeking inside, making sure that the coast was clear.

“Is it safe to come in now?” Roger asked in a snarky tone.

“Be my guest,” Brian grinned, stepping aside and making a sweeping gesture with his hand.

Roger walked inside, his eyes instantly finding mine as I sat hovering over my bowl of cereal. I couldn’t tell whether he was amused by what had happened, or angry, or maybe even a little hurt. It seemed like maybe it was a bit of all three, but in typical Roger style, he was hiding his feelings pretty well.

“You two are disgusting, you know that?” Roger informed us, taking a seat across from me at the table.

“Why?” Brian asked, resuming his seat at the end of the table once more. “Because you saw us doing the same thing that Freddie and I saw the two of you doing in Brighton?”

“Well at least Carrie and I had the courtesy to stop what we were doing once we knew you were there!” Roger railed.

“Listen, not that I need to justify my actions to you, but it’s been a while since Carrie and I have been able to… well…” Brian stammered.

“Fuck each other while your best friend watches?” Roger supplied.

“Something like that,” Brian grinned. “What do you think you were doing just letting yourself in anyway?”

“I thought that two of you would just be eating breakfast or watching TV or something!” Roger replied. “I sure as hell didn’t know that you’d be… Well, anyway, I was just bringing your key back since I forgot to give it to you last night.”

Roger dug into his pants pocket and procured our spare key.

“Thank you,” Brian said, taking the proffered key. “Are you hungry? Fancy a bowl of cereal?”

“Sure, why not,” Roger shrugged. Brian nodded and got up to get his friend a bowl and spoon while Roger continued, “You two always have the best food, by the way, I swear. I was quite enjoying housesitting for you and cleaning out your cupboards and fridge.”

“Yes, and drinking all my beer I noticed,” Brian grumbled as he sat back down, bowl and spoon in hand.

“It was a whole brand new six-pack,” Roger smirked. “I figured somebody should enjoy it.”

The three of us sat around eating our cereal and chatting for a bit, with Roger and Brian talking about the upcoming Marquee gig, when they were going to start rehearsing, and whether or not they felt that any changes needed to be made to their set list. Roger asked me how school was going, which reminded me of how much homework I had to get done and the fact that I needed to run by a book store to pick up a copy of _Cranford_ by Elizabeth Gaskell for one of my classes.

“What’s _Cranford?”_ Roger asked.

“Um, it’s a novel that was written during the Victorian era about life in a small rural village that’s mostly inhabited by women,” I explained. “It ties in nicely with what we’re learning about English country life in the 19th century in one of my classes.”

“Sounds right up your alley,” Roger acknowledged. “Care if I tag along with you two if you decide to go somewhere? I’m dead bored and have nothing to do until we go to the Kensington tonight.”

Brian and I looked at each other and shrugged.

“I don’t mind,” Brian said. “In fact, I haven’t been to a book shop in ages. Could be fun.”

“I’m not sure if ‘fun’ is the right word,” Roger scoffed. “But it’s something to do anyway.”

Brian and I got dressed as quickly as possible while Roger sat on the couch watching TV and waited for us. I knew it was cold out, so I made sure that I bundled up in jeans, a heavy sweater, long coat and my brown corduroy floppy hat from Kensington Market that I hadn’t had a chance to wear yet. Brian, likewise, was dressed for warmth, with black pants, boots, two shirts, a heavy jacket and scarf. To look at us, you’d think we were bracing ourselves for life in the Arctic, but then again, London felt a bit like the Arctic at times.

“Hey, you’re wearing a new hat!” Roger grinned at me as Brian and I reemerged from the bedroom.

“Yep, I got it from the Market a while back and haven’t had a chance to wear it yet,” I explained. “Now that it’s cold out, I thought I’d dig it out of my closet.”

“I like it,” Roger smirked, quickly getting up from the couch and closing the distance between us, snatching the hat off of my head and putting it on his own. “Look at that, it even fits!”

“How nice for you,” I sneered, grabbing the hat back. “I guess you’ll have to get one of your own.”

“Come on, let me have it,” Roger teased. “It’d look better on me than it does on you.”

“No,” I replied, readjusting that hat onto my head.

Brian just stood with his arms folded across his chest, watching the interaction between Roger and me as he shook his head. “Is it possible that the two of you were separated at birth or something? I swear to God the two of you act just like each other at times. You almost even look alike from certain angles.”

“Roger and me look alike?” I cried. “Oh no, no, no…”

“Yeah, I’m much better looking than her,” Roger grinned.

“Ha! You wish!” I snorted.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry I said anything,” Brian said, holding his hands up in the universal sign of surrender. “Now are we going to the book shop or not?”

The three of us finally made it out of the flat and drove to Dillon’s Books near Fitzrovia where I ended up in the classic lit section and Brian and Roger found their way to the Sci-Fi novels. I found a nice paperback copy of _Cranford_ then started looking around in other areas of the shop, until I came across the romance section. It had been a while since I’d read a good romance, so I flipped through the various paperbacks, checking to see if anything looked interesting. I came across a new novel called _The Flame and The Flower_ by an author I hadn’t heard of named Kathleen Woodiwiss. Something about the title of the book rang a bell in my mind and I wondered if perhaps Annie had told me about it or something. I read the back cover, which was the first thing that I always did when I was looking for a decent romance, and was instantly intrigued by the fact that the story was set in England at the turn of the 19th century. I cracked the book open to the first chapter and started reading. At first it seemed pretty mundane – your typical Cinderella sort of plot, with a once well off girl now dressed in rags living with poor and spiteful relatives – but then it got interesting. I was shocked when I came across a highly detailed sex scene where the main character, Heather, was being raped by a sea captain on board his ship. I’d never read anything like it! I continued on, my face turning slightly red over the graphic details, and I decided then and there that not only did I want to buy the book, but I couldn’t wait to get it home and read the rest!

“And what’s got you so engrossed then?”

I about jumped out of my own skin at the sound of Roger’s voice. I looked up to find both him and Brian looking at me with a quirked eyebrow, trying to read the title on the cover of the book I was holding.

_“The Flame and The Flower?”_ Roger grinned. He reached out and grabbed the book out of my hands before I could stop him. “Let me see that…”

“Hey! I was reading that!” I shouted, trying in vain to get the book back. Roger turned quickly away from me, holding the book at arms length so that I couldn’t reach it, and after I’d already had to put up with the whole hat incident at the flat, I was about ready to punch him.

“Holy shit…” Roger mumbled. He was reading the very page I’d been reading before he snatched the book away from me. “Brian, your girlfriend is reading pornography!”

“What?!” Brian exclaimed. He looked over Roger’s shoulder as Roger pointed out the scene that had had me so engrossed not a moment before. 

The two of them stood with their heads together reading while I tapped my foot impatiently on the wooden floor beneath my feet, demanding that they give me the book back. Brian just held up a hand, as if you say, “Hang on a second…” and continued on reading, with Roger by his side laughing and gasping over the graphic language that met his eyes. 

Finally they reached the end of the scene, and looked up at me with their mouths open slightly from shock.

“Do you read stuff like this often?” Brian asked me as his eyebrows shot into the air.

“I don’t know this author,” I replied shortly. “And no, I’ve never read a book quite this…graphic. Now can I have it back please?”

Roger held the book out to me with a crooked grin, and I quickly snatched it out of his hand. I noticed that both Brian and Roger each had a book in their hands that they obviously intended to buy, so I asked, “Are you two ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Brian replied, still slightly dazed. He then nodded toward _The Flame and The Flower_ and asked, “Are you going to buy that?”

“I was thinking about it,” I admitted, jutting my chin out firmly. “Is that going to be a problem?”

“No, hey, whatever,” Brian said, holding his hands up in a motion of self-defense.

I shoved my way past both Roger and Brian, making my way toward the cashier, and I could hear Roger laughing under his breath as he told Brian, “Your girlfriend reads porn!”

The three of us spent the rest of the afternoon strolling around the streets of London, popping into record shops or clothing stores or any place else that struck our fancy, and finally ended up at a little hole-in-the-wall fish ‘n’ chips shop where we got some lunch. Even though Roger continued to pester me about my hat and tease me about the book that I’d purchased, I had to admit that the three of us were having a good time. 

Before we knew it, though, it was getting late and nearly time for everybody to meet up at the Kensington. We drove back to our place so that Roger could pick up his car, and said our brief goodbyes, knowing that we’d be seeing each other again shortly at the pub. It felt so good to be back in England and back amongst friends again after our ten days in California, and I was truly looking forward to a typical night of half-drunken silliness with everyone.


	59. Chapter 59

When Brian and I arrived at the Kensington a little while later the place was absolutely buzzing with activity. I’d never seen the place so busy. There were people milling around everywhere, playing darts, laughing and talking around the bar, and food seemed to be going out to the crowded tables in droves.

“Shit, I hope we can even get to the pool table,” Brian remarked, as a group of girls filed past him out through the front door.

“Brian! Carrie!” Roger’s booming voice cut through the noise of the bar area as he stood motioning us over to the poolroom.

“God, this place is crazy tonight!” I told Roger as Brian and I made our way through the crowds of people, nearly getting drenched with beer along the way, as a tall, clumsy guy with thick glasses and a pint of beer in each hand bumped into us.

“Tell me about it,” Roger replied. “We were lucky to get the table at all.”

Apparently Brian and I were the last to arrive because Freddie, Roger and John were already busily setting up the table to play while Mary and Veronica sat at a small table in the corner chatting and nursing a couple of beers.

“Hello dears!” Freddie called out as he racked up the balls. John, being his usual quiet self, just smiled at us as we approached.

“Hey Fred,” Brian replied. “Have you gotten any drinks yet?”

“Yes, we’re drinking cheap wine tonight darling,” Freddie smiled back.

“Hmm,” Brian replied in a dubious voice. “I think I’ll start off with a beer.”

“Don’t tell me I bought the wine for nothing! I’ve got three bottles sitting here waiting for someone to drink them,” Freddie railed.

“Have you ever known alcohol to go to waste when the four of us are around?” Brian asked sarcastically. “I just feel like a beer right now, that’s all.”

I felt like having more of a mixed drink myself, so Brian and I trudged off in the direction of the bar, fighting our way through the crowds like salmon swimming upstream the entire way. We squeezed our way in between patrons and Brian asked the bartender for a Guinness while I ordered a screwdriver.

I noticed the girl sitting directly to my left at the bar looking my way, and I was wondering if perhaps I knew her from school when she suddenly asked, “Do I detect a fellow American accent?”

“You do indeed!” I smiled. “Where are you from?”

“Well, Idaho originally, but I spent a lot of time in Seattle and the coast of California as well. My dad’s in the military so we moved around a bit while I was growing up,” she explained.

“Ah, so you’re a fellow west coaster,” I said. “I’m from Fresno, California.”

“Oh yeah, I know where Fresno is at,” the girl replied. “My dad was stationed at Vandenberg Air Force base for a while.”

“Oh wow! Small world,” I laughed. “So do you live here in England now, or are you just visiting?”

Her accent didn’t sound 100% American, so I assumed that it was the former rather than the latter.

“I’ve been living in England for about seven years now in a town called Mildenhall up in Suffolk. That’s where my dad’s stationed these days. But I just moved here to London a few weeks ago,” she said. “How about you?”

“I’ve been living in London close to a year now,” I replied. “I’m working on my master’s degree in 19th century studies at Kings College.”

“Ah! A fellow college girl!” she smiled. “I studied English / Lit at Cambridge.”

“Oh wow! I nearly went that route myself. But history had a stronger pull for me in the end.”

“Well, it’s really cool to meet a fellow ex-Pat living here in London. I’m Samantha, by the way,” she said, extending her hand.

“My name is Carrie. Nice to meet you,” I said, taking her offered hand. She had a relatively firm handshake for a girl, and I liked that. It told me that she wasn’t some delicate girly-girl. Brian by this point was looking around me curiously to see what was going on, and I added, “This is my boyfriend, Brian, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you,” Samantha said, shaking his hand as well. “Are you from America too?”

“No, no, I’m very English,” Brian laughed.

“I didn’t think you looked American,” Samantha said.

I realized the more I studied her features how American she actually looked. She wasn’t your typical pale, English, plain-Jane kind of creature, she was actually very pretty, with shoulder length layered strawberry blonde hair, amber eyes and a wide full-lipped smile.

The bartender handed us our drinks and Brian paid for them while I asked Samantha, “So what areas of literature interest you the most?”

“Well, it’s funny that you mentioned your interest in the 19th century, because I specialized in 19th century literature at school,” Samantha replied.

“You’re kidding!” I exclaimed. “Who are some of your favorite authors?”

“Austen, Dickens, the Bronte sisters…”

“Oh my God,” Brian laughed. “You just said the magic word to her – Austen!”

“Really? Are you a Jane Austen fan?” Samantha asked.

“I’m slightly obsessed with her,” I confessed. “The reason I chose the flat I’m living in is because it’s on the same street that Jane Austen’s brother Henry lived on.”

“No!” Samantha laughed.

“You never told me that,” Brian smiled.

“It’s true,” I shrugged.

“Hey! Are you two coming in to play pool or not?!” Roger demanded, suddenly showing up beside us at the bar.

“Carrie’s just made a new friend,” Brian answered, nodding toward Samantha before taking a swig of his beer.

Roger’s eyes trailed off in the direction that Brian was indicating, and suddenly pool seemed to be momentarily forgotten.

“Oh,” he said simply as his eyes continued to linger on Samantha.

“Samantha, this is our friend Roger,” I said. “Roger, this is Samantha, a fellow American and literature buff.”

“Really?” Roger asked with a grin. “Very nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Samantha replied casually, taking a sip of her mixed drink.

“So what part of America are you from?” Roger asked.

“I was born in Idaho, but I really don’t remember it much,” she answered. “I spent most of my childhood in Seattle, Washington.”

“Ah, Seattle. Jimi Hendrix was from Seattle,” Roger smiled.

“He was indeed,” Samantha nodded. “Are you a Hendrix fan?”

I snorted and said, “Asking these two if they like Hendrix is like asking me if I like Jane Austen.”

“Hey Sam…” some guy with medium length brown hair and a mustache called out as he walked over and tapped Samantha on the arm. “The dart board is freed up. Feel like playing?”

“Um…” Samantha said, looking from the guy to the three of us and back to the guy again. “You guys go ahead and start and I’ll be over in a bit.”

The guy looked a little disappointed, but headed back across the room anyway to join his group of friends around the dartboard.

“I don’t want to keep you from your friends,” I said earnestly.

“No, no, it’s fine,” Samantha said, brushing aside my concern. “That guy can be a bit of a pain sometimes, and I’m really enjoying talking with you. I haven’t met that many people in London yet, and it’s nice to find someone from my same part of the world.”

“Listen,” I began, “the guys are going to be playing pool in the other room, and you’re welcome to join us if you want. You and I can sit and chat and laugh at them while they play. And trust me, as much as they usually drink, it’s bound to be pretty funny.”

“Are you sure?” Samantha asked. “I don’t want to intrude on your plans.”

“Trust me, it won’t be an intrusion,” Brian laughed. “Carrie would probably love the company, I’m sure.”

Samantha flashed me a quick smile, picked her drink up off of the bar and said, “Okay then! Let me just tell my friends where I’m going to be.”

She walked across the room toward the dartboard, and I noticed not just Roger’s, but Brian’s eyes as well, glued to her ass as she went. I supposed that I couldn’t blame them. Even I had to admit that she had a cute figure. She looked to be about 5’ 7” and was slim, wearing a pair of tight jeans and a short billowy top. Regardless, my boyfriend was acting pretty shameless right in front of me I thought.

“Hey!” I exclaimed, jabbing Brian in the ribs with my elbow. “You want to stop looking at her ass please?”

“What? I wasn’t looking at her ass!” Brian replied, quickly looking at me instead.

“Mm-hmm, well I must need to have my eyesight checked then,” I said in a snarky tone.

“Why would I need to look at her ass when the best ass in London is right here?” Brian asked in a low voice next to my ear as he reached over and placed the palm of his hand on my left butt cheek, giving it a quick squeeze.

“Nice save, Bri,” Roger said, rolling his eyes at us.

Samantha came back a moment later and the four of us adjourned to the poolroom.

“Finally!” Freddie exclaimed. “How long does it take to get a couple of bloody drinks for God’s sake?!”

“Samantha, the loud mouth over there is our friend Freddie,” I smiled. “And next to him is John. Over there at the table are their girlfriends, Mary and Veronica.”

Freddie and John froze on the spot when they realized that someone new, and decidedly pretty, was among us.

“Everyone, this is Samantha,” I announced to the room at large.

Freddie, in his usual charming rogue manner, quickly made his way toward us from behind the pool table, asking me, “And where did you find this lovely creature, darling?”

“I was lying in the gutter outside and she came along and took pity on me,” Samantha quipped drily.

Roger and I both started laughing, while Freddie got a slightly evil glint in his eyes, looked at me and said, “What have I told you about taking in strays, dear?”

“Especially American strays?” I laughed.

“Oh Lord!” Freddie cried. He looked Samantha up and down and said, “Don’t tell me you’re American too! I’m not sure that we can handle another in our midst!”

“Well, I’ve tried to Anglicize myself as much as possible, but it really is difficult to be as boring as most of the people in this country,” Samantha replied.

“Hey, we’re not all boring!” Roger declared in his defense. He motioned his thumb over his shoulder at Brian and said, “Only some of us are.”

“Watch it, Rog,” I admonished. “Brian is far from boring, trust me.”

“Which reminds me…” Roger started to tell Freddie in a loud voice, “I didn’t tell you what I walked in on at their place this morning.”

“Ooh, this should be good!” Freddie said excitedly. “Did it involve dairy products again?”

“Okay, I think this is our cue to go sit over on the couch, Samantha,” I said.

The two of us did just that as Roger told everyone within earshot as loudly as possible what he’d seen Brian and me doing that morning.

“Sounds like you and your boyfriend have an exciting love life,” Samantha laughed as the two of us sat down with our drinks in hand.

“Well, it would be a lot less exciting, and far less public, if Roger and Freddie weren’t constantly trying to catch us in the act!” I complained.

“Why do they do that?” Samantha questioned. “Don’t they have anything better to do?”

“Clearly not,” I said, shaking my head, as Samantha and I watched the guys begin the first round of pool. Roger broke and Brian, Freddie and John teased him for not getting any of the balls in the pockets. Despite his shortcomings in the game, however, he looked our way to make sure we were paying attention to him as he drank down one of the glasses of wine that Freddie had laid out. It was pretty obvious that he was interested in Samantha, and I found myself wondering what her reaction would be if he came on to her.

“So what’s the story with these guys anyway?” Samantha asked before taking a sip of her drink.

“Ah, well, the story is that they’re all part of a band called Queen,” I replied.

“I thought they looked like musician types,” Samantha said sagely. “Since you said that they like Hendrix, I take it they’re a rock band?”

“Yep, and they’re a pretty damn good one I’ve got to say,” I grinned. “Are you a fan of rock music?”

“Oh yeah, completely,” Samantha answered. “I love Led Zeppelin, Deep Purple, Hendrix of course, all the big names.”

“Well you’ll have to come watch the guys play live the next time they have a show. They’ve actually got a gig coming up at the Marquee Club on the 20th,” I said.

“Really? That would be great,” Samantha replied. “I love the Marquee Club. I just saw Nazareth there a couple of weeks ago.”

“Oh! Lucky shot!” Roger suddenly bellowed.

“What do you mean lucky shot?!” Brian exclaimed. “That was pure skill!”

“Bullshit! That wasn’t even the pocket you were aiming for and you know it!” Roger railed as Brian walked around the table looking for his next shot. Roger looked across the room at Samantha, then me, and shouted out, “Carrie, your boyfriend is cheating!”

“Oh fuck. First I’m lucky, now I’m cheating. Make up your mind,” Brian criticized as he went for his next shot and missed.

“Ah, tough break, old man. Time to drink up!” Roger grinned as he looked around the table for his best bet at scoring a shot. The wine bottles, I noticed, were slowly emptying, as Brian walked over to drink down a small glassful. At that rate, they were going to be drunk in no time, I thought.

“So how did you meet these guys anyway?” Samantha laughed.

“Ugh, it’s a long story,” I sighed. “I was shopping with a friend at Kensington Market back in February, and I ran across the stall that Roger and Freddie run there. They sell a lot of old clothing, so I was intrigued with all of their Victorian and Edwardian stuff, and before I knew it, Roger and I were dating.”

“Ah, you and Roger, huh?” she asked, glancing across the room momentarily to where Roger was bent low over the table, his ass facing directly at us.

“Yeah. We lasted several weeks before Brian and I… Well, let’s just say that Brian and I had an undeniable chemistry that neither of us could resist,” I said, turning slightly pink around the ears.

“Well, after the description that Roger just gave of the two of you this morning, I don’t doubt it somehow,” Samantha laughed.

“Oh God! Don’t listen to Roger,” I advised. “He’s prone to exaggeration.”

“He also seems to have a desperate need to be the center of attention,” Samantha grinned. “He’s been goofing off the whole time they’ve been playing and looking around to make sure that everyone sees. Does he always act like this?”

I had to admit that I was a bit shocked by Samantha’s relatively unflattering critique of Roger. Generally, all Roger had to do was just look at a girl and she was putty in his hands. Me included.

“Um, yeah,” I began, “I suppose that there is a bit of that with Roger, but he really is a sweet guy.”

“He certainly watches you a lot,” Samantha said. “Is anything still going on between the two of you?”

“Oh, no,” I replied quickly. “Roger and I are just good friends these days. If anything, he’s probably looking at me trying to figure out ways that he can irritate me, but I’ve got a feeling that he’s looking over here more to see you than me.”

“Me? You think so?” Samantha asked. “Hmm…”

“Oh!” all four of the guys shouted at once.

“John and I win!” Brian exclaimed, laying his pool cue across the table.

“Bastards!” Roger said vehemently. “I still say you were cheating!”

“How the hell does one cheat at pool?!” Brian demanded, as he and Roger walked across the room toward Samantha and me, and Freddie and John made their way to Mary and Veronica’s table.

“I don’t know, but you made some awfully lucky shots tonight,” Roger grumbled.

“Need another drink, babe?” Brian asked, sitting on the edge of the couch next to me.

I looked down at my glass and realized that it was, in fact, empty.

“Oh, I guess I do,” I laughed. “I’ve been so busy talking to Samantha that I didn’t even notice.”

“Same here,” Samantha said, draining what little was left in her glass.

“Let me buy you a drink,” Roger offered. “What did you have?”

“Well, I was drinking some sort of concoction of rum and juice that my friend Mitch recommended,” Samantha replied. “But I’ve got to admit, after watching the four of you playing pool, I’m a little intrigued by this whole wine drinking thing that you guys were doing.”

“Feel like playing pool?” Roger asked hopefully.

“Sure, why not,” Samantha shrugged. She looked at me and asked, “What do you think? You and me against these two?”

“Um, okay,” I answered. “Although I feel I must warn you, I’m not very good at pool.”

“That’s okay,” said Samantha. “I’m pretty good, so I’ll take brunt of the shots if you want.”

“Excellent,” Roger said, rubbing his hands together excitedly. “This should be fun.”

Brian and Roger walked back to the table and found the cues that they’d already been using while Samantha and I picked up and tried out the feel of a few different ones before making our final choices.

“Who’s going to play now?” Freddie asked, leaving Mary and Veronica behind to join us over at the pool table.

“Girls against boys,” Roger smiled, rubbing chalk over the tip of his cue.

“They’re going to slaughter you two,” Freddie said to Samantha and me.

“We’ll see,” Samantha grinned. 

“Should I set up the wine glasses and have them filled and ready?” Freddie smirked. 

“I assume it’s a situation where whoever misses their shot has to drink a glass?” Samantha asked, following Roger’s lead with the chalk cube.

“That’s right,” Freddie replied.

“Well, you won’t need to pour much for me, cause I’m not planning on missing many shots,” Samantha said smugly.

“Oh-ho!” sang Brian and Freddie, grinning at each other from ear to ear.

“She just threw the gauntlet down at you two!” Freddie laughed at Roger and Brian. He looked to Samantha then and said, “Despite your bravado, dear, I’ll get several glasses ready anyway.”

Brian racked up the balls, then looked to Samantha and me and said, “Ladies first. Who wants to break?”

“I’ll do it,” Samantha said. She positioned herself at the end of the table, pulled back her cue and smacked the cue ball into the rest of the balls, sending them skidding around the table, two of them landing in corner pockets.

Freddie laughed hysterically at Roger and Brian, who were obviously taken aback by Samantha’s skills, and clapped Brian on the back saying, “You two are fucked!” before going over to sit down next to Mary.

Samantha ended up hitting a total of four balls into the pockets before her third shot was barely deflected off the edge of one of the side pockets.

“Okay, okay, I’ll admit you’re good,” Roger grinned. “But you still get to belly up to the bar just like the rest of us every time you miss a shot.”

“Don’t worry, I’m a girl of my word,” Samantha smiled. She walked over to the table where Freddie had several glasses filled about halfway with either red or white wine. She picked up a glass of red and downed it one long gulp before joining us back at the pool table.

“Ah, the girl can drink as well as play, eh?” Roger smirked, as he pretended to line up his shot, when in actual fact he was watching every move that Samantha made.

“Yeah, well, don’t expect that it’s going to happen many more times tonight,” Samantha replied. “I have little doubt that you’ll be drunk long before I am.”

“Oh yeah?” Roger asked. “Why’s that?”

“I was watching you play earlier,” Samantha shrugged. “You’re not exactly the best I’ve seen.”

Roger hit the cue ball just as she made her comment, and his shot went wild, zooming past several balls on the table before landing in the corner pocket.

“Ah, you scratched, Rog! That’s two glasses of wine!” Brian smiled.

“She made me mess up!” Roger wailed, pointing at Samantha. “I deserve a do-over!”

“No do-overs,” I said, shaking my head. “Go drink your wine.”

Roger mumbled under his breath all the way to the wine table about American girls being a gigantic pain in the arse, while Samantha just grinned and Brian and I shook our heads at each other, laughing under our breath.

“Your turn my dear,” Brian said to me at last, motioning toward the table.

“Great, here we go…” I grumbled, looking for anything that I thought I might be able to get into one of the pockets. 

Luckily, since Roger had scratched, I was able to place the cue ball anywhere I wanted at the end of the table. I tried to line it up as best I could with the number three-ball, since Samantha and I were solid colors, and even though I came close to the corner pocket that I was aiming for, I missed by an inch or two. 

“Damn it!” I groaned.

“That’s okay! Good try!” Samantha said encouragingly. “We’ll get ‘em on our next turn.”

I walked over and picked up a glass of white wine, guzzling it down as quickly as I could without making myself sick. I watched as Brian made his first shot and then his second before barely missing on his third. I was just setting my empty glass back down on the table as he was walking up to pick up a full one.

“Maybe I should insult you while you try to make your next shot,” Roger said to Samantha as she leaned over the table to take her turn.

“Go right ahead,” Samantha replied casually as she sunk the three-ball that I’d been trying to hit into a corner pocket.

“What is going on with these two?” Brian asked me quietly as we watched the game from the wine table.

“I don’t know, but I think Roger’s met his match,” I chuckled.

Brian quickly drank his glass of wine, and the two of us slowly walked back to the pool table. Samantha sank two more balls, and all that was left for our side now was the eight ball. It was sitting at an odd angle near one of the side pockets, and even though Samantha tried valiantly, she didn’t quite make the shot.

“Aw, that’s too bad,” Roger said sarcastically. “Hope you don’t get too drunk off of that second glass of wine you’ve got to drink now.”

“Don’t worry,” Samantha sang. “I can hold my liquor.”

Roger walked slowly around the pool table, looking through narrowed eyes at the various options he had for making a shot. It was obvious that he didn’t want to be upstaged by this new girl, no matter how cute she was. He lined up a relatively easy shot of the eleven-ball into the corner pocket, and made it. After that he sunk the fourteen-ball followed by the ten-ball, but missed on his fourth try, just grazing the side pocket with the twelve-ball. He seemed genuinely happy, at least, that he’d made three successful shots, and walked to the wine table with a renewed bounce in his step.

It was up to me now to try and get the eight ball into a pocket for the girl’s team, and it really didn’t look like a terribly difficult shot, with the ball fairly close to a corner pocket and the cue ball near the right side of the table, which was perfect for a lefty like me.

“Come on, you can do it,” Samantha said encouragingly.

“I’ve got faith in you, babe,” Brian added.

I lined up the shot as best I could, pulled my cue back and let it rip, hitting the cue ball directly into the eight ball, which to my amazement, rolled slowly right into the corner pocket I was aiming for.

“Holy crap. I did it!” I exclaimed.

“Yes! I knew you could!” Samantha smiled, her hand shooting into the air to give me a congratulatory high-five. “Well, I think that definitely deserves a round of drinks for us from the losing team, don’t you?”

“Absolutely!” I exclaimed.

“Fine, fine,” Brian laughed. “What do you girls want?”

“You know what sounds good?” I asked Samantha rhetorically. “A tequila sunrise. I wonder if they could make one here.”

“Ooh, let’s go find out,” she replied.

We laughed all the way to the bar with Brian and Roger following right behind us, and explained to the bartender what exactly a tequila sunrise consisted of. We were starting to get a bit giggly from all the wine and mixed drinks, and it took me a second to remember how to pronounce the ingredient grenadine, which I initially said as grenade. Samantha thought that this was hilarious, and told the bartender that she definitely did not want a _grenade_ in her drink. The bartender clearly thought we were nuts, but said he’d try and make the drinks anyway. Brian and Roger each ended up ordering a beer for themselves, and once the drinks were paid for, we went back into the poolroom and squeezed our four bodies onto the couch while we watched Freddie rack up the balls for a game between him and Mary and John and Veronica.

“So how old were you when you moved to England, Samantha?” I asked, leaning back against Brian, who had wrapped his arm around me protectively.

“You know what, my name is such a mouthful, please feel free to call me Sam. All my friends do,” Samantha said. “And I was about fourteen when my family moved here.”

“Was it a big adjustment?” I asked, taking a sip of my drink. “I would imagine that it would be.”

“It was like I’d moved to another planet completely,” Sam confessed. “You know, at least when we were moving around across the west coast of the States, the people and places and accents were all more or less the same. But coming here was a whole new experience, especially since I was just about to start high school back home. When I got here and found out that I had to go to something called secondary school instead of high school, and that I had to wear funny little school uniforms instead of my t-shirts and jeans, I about flipped.”

“That’s right, you don’t have school uniforms in the States, do you?” Brian asked thoughtfully.

“Not at regular public schools we don’t,” I said.

“So what brings you to London?” Brian asked Sam.

“Actually, I came here hoping to further my modeling career,” she answered. 

“Really?” Roger asked her with a quirked eyebrow. He was clearly intrigued and wanting to learn more.

“Mm-hmm,” she said, turning to look at Roger. “I used to come down to London every so often during my college years and do the occasional photo shoot for magazine ads, clothing companies, etc., and I liked it so much, that I thought I’d pursue it as a career.”

“Wow!” I said in amazement. “A model and a Cambridge grad! Impressive!”

“Well, I figure if the whole modeling thing doesn’t work out, then I’ve always got my education to fall back on.”

“So, do you miss life back in the States?” Roger asked.

“Sometimes,” Samantha confessed. “I miss the sunshine and the Pacific Ocean. I was just learning to surf when we left the California coast.”

“You lived in California too?” Roger asked.

“Uh-huh, not too far from where Carrie grew up in Fresno,” Sam answered.

“Now, when you say ‘not too far’, is that by English standards or American standards?” Brian asked with a grin.

Samantha and I both laughed, and said “American standards” almost simultaneously.

“It’s probably, what, about a three hour drive from Fresno to Vandenberg?” I asked Sam.

“I’m not sure, it’s been so long since I’ve been there, but that sounds about right,” she replied. Then she asked me, “So what about you? What do you miss about the States?”

“The food,” Brian responded teasingly before I had a chance.

“That’s true,” I laughed, smacking Brian lightly on the arm. “I do miss the food, but I tell you what I’ve really been missing is my car and being able to drive.”

“Don’t you drive over here?” Sam asked.

“Honestly, I’ve been afraid to,” I said. “These roads scare the hell out of me!”

“It is very different from the straight, wide roads back home, isn’t it?” Sam sympathized. “You should have one of these guys teach you though. What kind of car did you have back in America?”

“Oh Lord,” Brian laughed. “Next to Jane Austen you just asked her about her most favorite thing in the world!”

“That’s not true, sweetheart,” I said, turning to look at Brian. I patted his thigh and added, “My favorite thing in the world is you.”

“Aww,” Samantha said, as Brian leaned in to kiss me.

“Oh please, don’t encourage them,” Roger griped, reaching into his pocket for his cigarettes. “They’ll make you vomit with the amount of sugary sap that comes out of their mouths.”

Samantha was studying Roger as he lit his cigarette, and he held his pack out toward her in an effort to say, “Want one?” as he took a long drag off of his own.

“Sure, I’ll take one,” Samantha shrugged. Roger flicked open the box, shook a few of the cigarettes up, and Samantha pulled one out. She put it to her lips while Roger lit it, and took a nice long drag before turning to me and saying, “Now what kind of car do you have?”

“Oh, it’s a ’69 Camaro,” I answered.

“A Camaro?” Samantha asked excitedly. “Nice! Fast American cars are another thing that I miss about the States. My dad is really into cars. In fact, he had his ’64 Corvette shipped over to England when we left.”

“A ’64 Corvette in England? Oh, I’ve got to meet your dad!” I laughed.

“Hey, American cars aren’t the only fast cars in the world,” Roger scowled.

“Uh-oh, here we go…” I mumbled.

“Why? What kind of car do you have?” Sam asked, taking the bait that Roger was obviously dangling in front of her nose.

“A 1965 Triumph Spitfire,” Roger replied proudly.

“A Triumph?” Sam scoffed. “Those things are all bark and no bite! The engines sound like giant mosquitos!”

“Mosquitos?!” Roger fumed.

“Oh shit, she insulted his car,” Brian whispered in my ear.

I tried not to snicker as Roger vehemently said, “My car does not sound like a bloody mosquito!”

“Well, I guess you’ll have to show it to me one of these days and change my opinion then,” Sam said casually. 

It was hilarious to watch the range of emotions that Sam was invoking in Roger. It was clear that he didn’t know whether he wanted to ask her out on a date, or ban her from the Kensington for life over her insolence.

By the time we left the pub, phone numbers and addresses had been exchanged between Sam and I, an invitation had been extended for the Marquee show on the 20th by Brian, and Roger casually mentioned to Sam that she should come by and watch the band rehearse at Imperial College one day. We all reluctantly said our goodbyes, but I had a strong suspicion as we left that it wouldn’t be long before we’d be seeing Sam again.


	60. Chapter 60

The following week after we played pool I started going over to Imperial College after school to watch the guys rehearse. Since students were now occupying the tiny lecture hall near the physics department that the guys had been using over the summer, the band now had to use the main hall in the student union building instead, meaning that their equipment had been hauled piece by piece to the other side of the campus. The guys didn’t mind too much though, since the main hall was actually a better location. It was a long and narrow room with rows of folding chairs set up around a center aisle, facing directly at a small stage down in front, and had much better acoustics than the lecture hall that they’d been using before. As I soon learned, it was also a place that the band was already more than familiar with since both Smile and Queen had played gigs there. And although the guys were taking their rehearsals very seriously, trying to fine-tune their act for the upcoming Marquee gig, they weren’t focused to the point that Roger had forgotten about Sam. Indeed, by the second day of rehearsal, Roger was asking me if I’d heard from my new friend “what’s her name”, as if he’d magically forgotten that particular bit of information somehow. By the following day he was casually telling me that I should invite her to rehearsal, and when she didn’t show up the next day, he asked for her phone number so that he could call her and invite her himself, since I was obviously taking too long.

“No, I’m not giving you her phone number,” I told him.

“Why not?” Roger protested.

“Because, she gave the number to me and never authorized me to give it to anyone else,” I replied. “But I promise you, I will call her tonight and ask her if she wants to come by tomorrow.”

That seemed to pacify him, at least momentarily, and I followed through with my promise that night as I called Samantha and chattered away over the phone with her for about an hour before I finally remembered to ask her to the guys’ rehearsal the next day. She was a bit worried about it at first, afraid that she might be in the way, but when I assured her that not only would she _not_ be in the way, but that her presence would provide me with someone to talk to, she agreed to meet all of us at Imperial College the following afternoon.

The next day I was sitting in my normal spot at the right side of the stage a few rows back, trying to read, as the guys’ music rang out throughout the narrow hall. I heard the slight click of the double doors closing behind me, but didn’t give it too much thought, since people always seemed to be coming and going throughout the student union building. Suddenly though, Roger very uncharacteristically missed a beat, completely throwing off the rest of the guys, and I knew that Samantha must have just entered the room.

“What the hell was that Rog??” Brian demanded.

“Ahem!” Freddie cleared his throat loudly. He got Brian’s attention as intended, and motioned his head in Samantha’s direction.

“Oh,” Brian said, shaking his head. “Never mind.”

“Hey Sam!” I called out, turning in my seat to watch as she made her way down the center aisle toward me. I patted the seat beside me and said, “Come sit down!”

“Good to see you again!” Samantha said, giving me a quick hug as she took her seat. She pointed to the book I was holding and said, _“The Flame and The Flower_ by Kathleen Woodiwiss! That’s a good book.”

“You’ve read it?” I asked.

“Couldn’t put it down!” Sam smiled. 

She had just started to tell me about a few other good romance novels that she’d recently read when the guys started playing again. _Keep Yourself Alive_ was suddenly blasting out of their amps and PA system, and she seemed suitably impressed with the band’s musical ability.

“I’ve gotta say, these rockers of yours are pretty good,” Sam said loudly enough so that I could hear her, as she gazed up at the stage with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes.

“I told you they were good,” I smiled proudly. “You know, Roger hasn’t stopped talking about you since he met you on Saturday.”

“Really?” Samantha asked, as she turned a little to face me. She leaned an elbow on the back of her chair, resting her head on her hand, as she asked me, “Okay, so what’s the story with this guy?”

“What do you mean?” I asked, putting my book away for the time being.

“I mean, he’s obviously drop dead gorgeous, so is he completely full of himself or what?” Samantha asked with a sly grin. “Why did the two of you break up?”

“Because of Brian,” I said simply.

“Yeah, but… Look, pardon me for sticking my nose in where it doesn’t belong, but there had to be more to it than that, right? I mean, girls don’t just leave guys that are that good looking on a whim,” said Sam. She looked up toward the stage then and went on, “I mean, your guy Brian is cute and all, don’t get me wrong, but something must have already been going wrong between you and Roger for you to leave him for another guy.”

“Well, I’ll be honest with you, Roger is a bit of a flirt,” I replied.

“Now we’re getting to it…” Samantha nodded.

“But that’s not to say that he’s a bad guy,” I added quickly. “Believe me, there have been plenty of times that I’ve wished that things hadn’t ended so badly for us.”

“So what happened with you two?” Sam asked.

“Oh God, it’s such a long story,” I began. “The whole thing started to fall apart between us when Roger thought that I was cheating on him with Brian.”

“Were you?”

“Well…not really. Not unless you count a couple of kisses as cheating,” I answered a little sheepishly.

“Uh, it kind of is,” Sam acknowledged.

“Yeah, I suppose it is,” I conceded, “but Roger didn’t actually know that it had happened, and what he thought was going on between Brian and me was much worse. Long story short, he left me after a party one night, after he and Brian had almost gotten into a fight over the whole thing, and I honestly thought that that was it between us. I thought we were over. In the meantime, Brian and I, well… We, um…”

“Went a little further than just kissing?” Sam offered.

“Basically,” I shrugged. “We didn’t really mean for it to happen. I mean, Brian took me to go see Jane Austen’s house, one thing led to another, and suddenly we found ourselves at a bed and breakfast.”

“Well, of course! He lured you in with Jane Austen! How could you possibly resist?” Sam teased.

“I swear to you that it wasn’t like that,” I laughed. “Anyway, Roger and I tried to patch things up, but the damage was already done.”

“Hmm,” said Sam thoughtfully. “So you sort of broke Roger’s heart then.”

“Yeah, I guess I did in a way,” I replied solemnly. “Believe me, it’s not something I’m proud of.”

“And you honestly think he likes me?” Sam asked.

“I _know_ he does!” I exclaimed. 

“And you wouldn’t care if I went out with him?”

“Like I said, I’ve got no claims on Roger anymore. We’re just good friends now.”

“Well, then,” Sam began, quirking an eyebrow toward the stage, “If he asks me out, maybe I’ll just take him up on it.”

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

As it turned out, Roger and Sam exchanged phone numbers that very afternoon, and by the next day were going out on their first date. From that point on, they were pretty much inseparable. I was truly happy for them both, but I would be lying if I said that I didn’t feel at least a small twinge of jealousy. After all, Roger had been my first love in England, not to mention the first person I’d ever had sex with. It would be unnatural if I hadn’t been a little envious of their newfound relationship.

I put those thoughts out of my mind, though, and put all of my time and effort into my studies since I was now going into the home stretch of my second semester. Getting decent grades on my finals and turning in well thought out papers was about all I could afford to think about. It killed me not to be in on the guys’ rehearsals, but for about three days or so, rather than sitting in the main hall while their music blared, I found an empty table in the student union bar downstairs where I could study for finals and put the finishing touches on my papers.

I was completely engrossed in going over my notes one afternoon when a voice suddenly jolted me out of my thoughts.

“Ah, Ben, I didn’t realize that you were working here in the bar these days,” an older gentleman said to the young guy drying off a glass behind the bar. I looked up from my work, wondering where the older guy had come from since I hadn’t seen him walk in. 

“Hello Professor Ring,” the guy, Ben, said to him with a smile. “Yeah, it’s just a part time job to help pay for university.”

“Ah, I see,” the professor replied, leaning an elbow against the bar. “Well, let me buy a pint from you if I may.”

“Certainly,” Ben answered, and immediately took his freshly dried glass to one of the nearby taps to pour out a beer.

“I wandered over here to the student union building to find that star pupil of mine,” the professor went on as he dug a couple of coins out of his pocket to pay for the drink. He chuckled then as he said, “But I suspect that that’s probably him upstairs making all that racket with his guitar.”

This definitely got my attention, and I immediately turned in my seat to look at the man.

“Excuse me,” I said a little timidly. “But, are you looking for Brian May?”

The man turned and smiled at me and said, “Yes. Do you know him?”

“I’m his girlfriend,” I grinned. “And he is just upstairs rehearsing if you needed to speak with him.”

Professor Ring turned back toward the bar momentarily to take the beer that Ben held out to him before placing the coins in the young man’s hand. He turned back to me then, and walked the short distance to my table, sitting down across from me as if we’d known each other for years.

“So you know those characters up there playing their rock music, do you?” he asked me before taking a long sip of beer.

“I do,” I grinned.

“Well, your ears must be made of sterner stuff than mine then,” he laughed. He extended his hand toward me and said, “I’m Professor Ring, by the way. I’ve worked with Brian for years, even went to Tenerife with him a couple of times. He’s told you all about that though, I expect.”

“He has,” I replied with a smile, taking his offered hand. “And I’ve seen lots of photos as further proof.”

“We had quite a good time in Tenerife,” Professor Ring went on. “Brian always attracted a lot of attention from the locals with his flared jeans and velvet jackets. A hell of an astrophysicist, though, Brian is.”

“He is indeed,” I agreed.

Professor Ring bent his head over my notes and textbook then, pushing his glasses up his nose, as he attempted to see what I was reading and asked, “So what are you studying then my dear? Are you an astrophysics major too?”

“Oh no, I’m not even close to being smart enough to study astronomy,” I laughed. “I’m a history major working on my masters in 19th century studies at Kings College.”

“19th century studies, you say? Very interesting subject. Do you happen to know a Professor Albertson?” Professor Ring asked me.

“I do know him, he’s one of my teachers,” I replied.

“Lovely chap, known him for years,” said Professor Ring. “He beats me at chess every time we play. Then again, we usually do drink a few pints before hand, so that may have something to do with it.”

I laughed along with Professor Ring, who clearly thought it was hilarious that my teacher was constantly beating him at chess. Personally, I had a hard time imagining Professor Albertson having any kind of fun at all, even geeky fun, let alone drinking a few pints of beer.

“Well, I shall let you get back to your studies my dear,” Professor Ring smiled. “Perhaps I’ll just pop in and say hello to Brian and ask him how his thesis is coming along. Nice to meet you!”

And before I could say much in return, Professor Ring was getting up from my table and walking through the door that led out to the staircase that would in turn take him up to the main hall. I knew as soon as he mentioned Brian’s thesis that there could possibly be trouble. Brian had been somewhat sensitive on the subject of late, not really wanting to discuss it much. It occurred to me that I hadn’t even seen him work on his paper since he’d typed the whole thing up back in August, only to be shot down by one of his professors at Imperial, who said that it needed more work. Possibly the very professor I’d just been chatting with. All I knew was, anytime the subject was broached, Brian changed it quickly, wanting to talk about something else entirely.

Sure enough, Brian was very quiet that afternoon as we left Imperial College. He was also quiet throughout dinner that night, and while we were sitting on the couch afterwards watching TV.

I sat studying him for a moment, my head resting on my hand while my elbow was propped up against the back of the couch, and after a minute or two Brian looked my way, doing a double take once he realized that I was looking at him.

“What?” he smiled weakly.

“Just wondering why you’ve been so quiet today,” I said. “Does it have anything to do with that professor of yours interrupting your rehearsal to talk to you?”

“How did you know about that?” Brian asked with a surprised look.

“I met him while I was studying today,” I answered. “He was telling me about your trips to Tenerife and what an amazing student you are, and then he said that he was going to go in and ask you about your thesis.”

“Between him and my dad I can’t seem to get away from the subject, can I?” Brian sighed, turning back toward the TV.

“So what’s going on, babe?” I asked. “The last time we talked about your paper you said you weren’t sure whether you wanted to revise it or not.”

“I don’t know,” Brian said, shaking his head. “I’m really starting to feel like I’ve reached the end of the road with the whole thing. I’ve worked on that damn paper for so long, and I really don’t know what else I can add to it. I guess I’m just fed up with the whole thing, really, but I know my dad is going to kill me if I give up on it.”

“Well, forget about what your dad wants for a minute,” I said, reaching over to gently run my fingers along Brian’s forearm. “What is it that you want?”

“Honestly? I just want to play music. I want to see Queen finally make it. I feel like if I give up on music now to finish my degree, I’m going to be wondering ‘what if’ for the rest of my life,” Brian said. He sat lost in thought for a moment, looking down at his hands as he picked at a fingernail, then added, “But it’s so bloody hard to just walk away from my education. As Professor Ring reminded me today, I could earn my PHD and become a teacher with a good salary and pension and security. And then I think about us and how much a steady income could mean for our future…”

“Oh no you don’t,” I said, reaching out to turn Brian’s face toward mine. “Don’t you dare do something that you’re going to regret because of us. How long do you think our happiness would last if you dreaded getting up everyday for a job that you hated? I don’t want to be the cause of you not following your dreams.”

“Now you know how I feel every time you talk about leaving school to stay here with me,” Brian countered. “As much as I would love it if you could stay here and not have to return to America, I don’t want to be the reason that you don’t fulfill your dreams either.”

“I know,” I said quietly, reaching for Brian’s hand. I interlaced my fingers with his and continued on, saying, “Well, I think you probably already know that I’m a big proponent of a person following their dreams, and if that means that you scrap your paper for the time being to do what you want to do, then so be it. You aren’t your dad or Professor Ring or anybody else that’s pushing you to finish your degree, you’re you, and you’ve got to do what’s right for you.”

“I love that you’re so supportive of me,” Brian said, leaning over to give me a quick kiss. “And while I think that you’re right, it doesn’t make it any easier to know that I’m going to be letting my parents and teachers down.”

I completely sympathized with Brian. I knew how upset my parents would have been if I had dropped out of school, and they weren’t nearly as hell-bent on education as Brian’s parents were, so I could only imagine the pain and anguish he must have been feeling over the thought of disappointing them. I didn’t envy him the difficult task of having to finally confess his plans to them, and to his teachers.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

My last day of school passed by with very little fanfare, but I was happy at least that I’d made it through my second semester and was that much closer to earning my degree. My thoughts were still with Brian during my entire last day, worrying about how he was doing at rehearsal and hoping that no more of his old professors decided to confront him. Annie had told me something during an early morning class, however, that I thought might potentially cheer Brian up. It seemed that David Bowie was going to be playing at the Rainbow on Christmas Eve, and I knew how much Brian liked David Bowie, so I decided to surprise him with tickets for the two of us. I rode the tube all the way to the Rainbow after school, bought us the best seats that I could afford, and met the guys at Imperial just as they were finishing up for the day.

“See, darling, she’s still alive,” Freddie grinned at Brian as I strolled into the main hall of the student union.

“There you are!” Brian exclaimed. “I was starting to worry about you!”

“Didn’t you get my message?” I asked in a concerned voice. “I called and told the secretary in the administration office here to give you a message not to come pick me up today. When you weren’t waiting for me I figured that you got it.”

“No, I got the message, but I didn’t know where you went or what you were doing,” Brian answered.

“I went to get you a surprise,” I smiled. I dug in my purse, pulled out the tickets, held them out to Brian and said, “Ta da!”

“You got us tickets to see Bowie at the Rainbow?” Brian asked. His face lit up as he looked at me, and suddenly the rigmarole of riding the tube all over London with sweaty, smelly people was all worth it.

“What?!” Roger cried. He grabbed the tickets out of Brian’s hand and said, “Let me see those!”

Everyone gathered around Roger and peered over his shoulder as he read the details on the tickets out loud, including Sam, Mary and Veronica, who had meandered over to see what all the fuss was about. With all the “oohs” and “aahs” he received, you would have thought he was holding a golden ticket to see Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory!

“I can’t believe you bought tickets to see Bowie!” Roger said to me, thrusting the tickets back at Brian.

“I thought it would be a nice start to our first Christmas together,” I shrugged, smiling up at Brian.

“It’s the perfect start. Thank you sweetheart,” Brian said, giving me a big hug and dropping a light kiss on the top of my head. “Which reminds me, I haven’t had much of a chance to do any Christmas shopping yet.”

“With all my homework, neither have I,” I said. “I guess we’d better do something about that.”

“How are we going to do it though?” Brian asked. “I really don’t like the thought of you wandering around London by yourself possibly getting lost, but if we’re out together, then we’re going to see what the other person buys.”

“I’ll take her if you want,” Roger suddenly volunteered with a slight shrug.

“Really? You wouldn’t mind?” Brian asked.

“Of course not!” I scoffed. “This way he could have an entire afternoon to irritate me all he wants!”

“Hey, I’m trying to be nice!” Roger retaliated.

“Mm-hmm,” I mumbled disbelievingly, screwing up my face at Roger. I realized then that Sam was looking from Roger to me with a quirked eyebrow. My expression softened as I looked at Sam and said, “That is, if it’s okay with you, I mean. I don’t want to interfere with any plans the two of you may have had.”

“I suppose I could let you borrow my boyfriend for an afternoon,” Sam said teasingly. “I mean, we wouldn’t you to get lost after all.”

“Thanks Sam,” I laughed. I turned back to Roger and asked, “Will tomorrow work for you?”

“Yeah, that’ll be fine,” Roger grinned.

“Make sure you bring him back in one piece!” Sam admonished jokingly.

“He’s the one driving,” I argued. “Tell him to bring _me_ back in one piece!”

Brian and I were up bright and early the next morning eating a home cooked breakfast of French toast, or as Brian referred to it, eggy bread, scrambled eggs and coffee. We got dressed relatively quickly, and soon there was a knock at the door signaling Roger’s arrival. I answered the door and invited him in, saying that I’d still be a few minutes because I needed to comb my hair and put on a bit of make-up. As soon as he spotted the leftover French toast, however, any concerns about having to wait were quickly forgotten as he sat down at the table and finished off our breakfast.

Brian was already dressed and ready to leave, so we gave each other a quick kiss goodbye and he headed out on his own to go shopping for me. While Roger ate I combed my hair and donned my corduroy hat, put on my make-up, and I was ready to hit the town.

“Ah, I see you’re wearing my hat again,” Roger smiled as I emerged from the bedroom.

“I’m not giving you this hat,” I said firmly as I rifled through the contents of my purse to make sure that I had my keys, money, and anything else I thought I might need.

“You will eventually,” Roger grinned. “I’ll wear you down.”

“So how’s the French toast?” I asked as I watched Roger shovel the last bite into his mouth. 

“Fantastic as always. I’d forgotten what a good cook you are,” Roger replied. He stood up from the table and began walking his dirty plate into the kitchen as he asked me, “Ready to go?”

“Ready when you are,” I said.

I locked up the flat and we bounded down the stairs to Roger’s waiting car.

“Well, I haven’t ridden in this thing for a while,” I said as I climbed into the passenger seat of Roger’s Triumph.

“Does it still seem the same?” Roger asked as he slid into the driver’s seat.

“Let’s see,” I said, looking around the interior of his car. “Old crumpled up packs of Marlboros, an ashtray full of cigarette butts, the odd drumstick here and there; yep, it looks pretty much the same as it always has.”

Roger just laughed and asked, “Okay, so where are we off to?”

“Hampstead,” I replied.

“What the hell is in Hampstead?” Roger questioned, looking at me as though I was crazy.

“An antique shop that I like to go to,” I said. “They have old stereoscopic photos there that Brian likes.”

“Naturally…” Roger said, rolling his eyes, as he pulled away from the curb and headed down Henrietta Street.

We parked as close to the antique shop as we could, but still had to walk a couple of blocks to get to it. The little old man that ran the place smiled as we walked through the front door, and a slight flicker of recognition flashed across his countenance when he saw me.

“Good afternoon miss,” he said. “Here to look at telescopes again?”

“Wow, I can’t believe you remember me,” I laughed.

“I never forget a pretty face,” he smiled.

“Oh Lord. You’re going to make her head swell to ten times its natural size,” Roger complained as he wandered off to look at what the tiny shop had to offer.

“So what can I help you with today?” the man asked me, completely ignoring Roger’s snide comment.

“Actually, I’d like to look at your stereoscopic photos if I could,” I replied.

The man immediately complied with my request, producing a box of old photos from behind the counter for my inspection. I looked through them and asked the man’s opinion in regards to the subject matter depicted or the photographer who had taken the shots, and eventually accumulated a small stack of photos from the London Stereoscopic Company’s series _Scenes In Our Village._ Roger, meanwhile, was getting some worried looks from the little old man, as he kept carelessly handling breakable objects that were obviously worth a fair bit of money. It occurred to me that taking him into an antique shop might not have been my best idea.

“Roger, leave that stuff alone!” I scolded. “If you break anything you’re going to have to buy it, you know.”

Roger set down a little ceramic shepherdess that he’d been examining, walked back over to where I was standing and said, “Yes, Mum” in a very sarcastic tone.

“Are you buying these photographs for yourself?” the old man asked me as he started to ring them up.

“No, they’re for my boyfriend for Christmas,” I answered. 

The man’s gaze waivered momentarily toward Roger, obviously wondering if he was the boyfriend in question.

“Oh, not him,” I added quickly. “The tall dark haired fellow I came in here with the first time.”

“Ah, yes. I think I remember him,” the man said. “Does he also like taking stereo photographs?”

“He does,” I answered. “He takes what he calls sequential shots and then turns them into stereos.”

“Ah, with a regular two-dimensional camera,” the man said. “But he doesn’t have an actual stereo camera?”

“I didn’t know that stereo cameras still existed,” I confessed.

“Oh, yes,” the man nodded. “I don’t believe they make them anymore, but they did up until about fifteen or twenty years ago. You can easily find one at a second hand camera shop.”

“Really?” I asked. I decided then and there that, provided they weren’t outrageously expensive, I had to get one for Brian. The man told me of a good second hand camera shop that was only a couple of blocks away, and Roger and I immediately headed there as soon as I was done paying for the pictures.

It didn’t take us long to walk the two blocks, but unfortunately, the place was so tiny and off the beaten path, that it took forever to actually find it. When we eventually did, I was completely overwhelmed by the towering shelves and cases filled with cameras and equipment of every shape and size, all of which seemed to blend together creating a giant sea of lenses and flashes and things that I couldn’t make heads or tales of. 

“This place looks promising,” Roger said, drifting off down one of the aisles to look at some secondhand 35 mm cameras.

I was just about to enter a narrow aisle that seemed to have some old strange-looking antique cameras, when a voice suddenly asked, “May I help you?”

I turned to find a middle-aged man with thinning brown hair swept across the top of his head in a comb-over, large thick framed glasses sliding down his nose, and the largest ears I’d ever seen, looking at me inquiringly.

“Yes,” I replied. “I’m looking for a stereo camera.”

“Certainly,” the man said, leading me into another narrow aisle of odd-looking cameras and lenses. “Any brand in particular?”

“Um, to be honest, I’m really not sure what I’m looking for,” I smiled sheepishly. “My boyfriend loves photography, and likes old stereoscopic photographs, so I thought I’d look into a stereo camera for him for Christmas, if they’re not too expensive.”

“Well, if you’ll look at this shelf here, we have a lovely selection of stereo cameras to choose from, including a couple of very nice Kodaks, one or two Bell & Howells, a Graflex, and several Realists. All of these date to about the early 1950s,” the man explained.

I’d never seen anything quite them before. Each camera was just a bit larger than a standard 35mm camera, but they each had two small lenses on the front instead of just one larger one, making them look like a bizarre futuristic sort of gadget from a sci-fi movie or something.

“And they’re all still in good working order?” I asked at last.

“Oh yes,” the man replied. “I thoroughly clean and test all of my cameras myself.”

He reached onto the shelf and picked up one of the Realist cameras he had told me about just moments before.

“This one in particular might be a good choice for you,” the man said. “It’s in nearly perfect condition, practically brand new really, and it still has its original box and instruction booklet. I happen to know the gentleman that used to own it, and he’s very particular about his cameras. He always takes excellent care of them.”

“Sounds just like my boyfriend,” I laughed. “How much is it?”

“Oh, what do you say to £4?” the man asked.

“I say I’ll take it,” I smiled.

Roger and I left the camera shop moments later and were heading back toward his car when a shop dealing in used and rare books caught my eye.

“Ooh, look! A place that sells old books,” I said. “Let’s go in and see what they’ve got.”

“Tell me,” Roger said. “Are you planning on buying anything _new_ for Brian for Christmas, or is it all just going to be a load of old junk?”

“One person’s old junk is my sweetheart’s treasure,” I smiled.

I was elated to find a first edition copy of Brian’s favorite book _Out of The Silent Planet_ by C.S. Lewis for not too exorbitant of a price, so I snatched it up immediately. Even Roger had to admit that it was a pretty cool gift and that Brian would love it.

We left the Hampstead area after that and went into Kensington where Roger assured me that there was a shop that sold records and books where I was likely to find both Jimi Hendrix’s new album _War Heroes_ and the recent Hendrix biography that Roger had received for his birthday just a few months before. I knew that Brian had been wanting both items, and decided that that would pretty much wrap up my shopping for him. I picked up some of his favorite chocolates while I was out too, along with some Christmas wrapping paper, bows and tags, and I was officially done.

We pulled up in front of the flat a short time later, and I noticed that Brian’s car wasn’t there, meaning he wasn’t back yet. I was grateful for that, hoping that maybe I could quickly wrap up his gifts before he got home. I gave Roger a quick kiss on the cheek, thanked him again for being my chauffer for the afternoon, and gathered up all of my purchases, trying to haul them and myself out of Roger’s car.

“Need any help?” Roger grinned.

“Nope,” I grunted, heaving on the bag that contained the camera. “I’ve got it.”

I finally made it out of Roger’s car with everything intact, and turned around to tell him one last goodbye before shutting the car door.

“I’ll see you around,” Roger smiled. “And I expect that hat of yours to be wrapped up and given to me on Christmas morning!”

I glared at Roger through narrowed eyes, shaking my head vehemently at him before closing the door with a snap. I headed upstairs thinking about how grateful I was that Sam got to deal with his irritating ways these days, and not me.


	61. Chapter 61

I managed to get all of Brian’s presents wrapped just in the knick of time right before he walked through the front door. I was in the bedroom sitting on the bed, placing the last bow on the box containing his stereoscopic camera, when Brian called out my name asking if I was home. As soon as he realized that I was in fact home, I was told not to leave the bedroom while he wrapped my gifts in the living room. Since I was to be a prisoner in my own room for an unspecified amount of time, I requested that he bring me my knitting, my romance novel, a cup of tea and some snacks. He did so without complaint, and his eyes lit up when he walked into the bedroom to find a pile of wrapped presents lying on the bed with his name on them.

“What’s all this?” he smiled, balancing a cup of tea and my novel in one hand and a package of cookies and my knitting bag in the other.

“Somebody’s Christmas presents,” I grinned, taking the cup of tea before Brian spilled it on the cover of my book.

“How many did you get?” he asked, quickly scanning the pile to surmise shapes, sizes and colors.

“Mm, about five, I think,” I replied.

“Good, I think that’s about the same amount that I got you too, which makes us even,” he said. He set my book, knitting and cookies on the bed and said, “Okay, stay here. I’ll wrap as quickly as I can.”

I was glad to see that his mood had brightened from a few days before, and I sat patiently in the bedroom reading and sipping tea while I listened to the sound of wrapping paper unfurling and Scotch tape being ripped from its plastic spool in the other room.

Buying presents for one another seemed to have sparked a festive spirit in the both of us, and the following day we went out shopping for a Christmas tree, ornaments, stockings and lights to put around the kitchen window and front door. The flat looked fantastic when we got done, and placing our presents beneath the tree added the perfect finishing touch. We even got a small stocking for little Harold, and decided that we needed to buy and wrap a couple of things that he too could rip open on Christmas morning so that he didn’t feel left out.

Unfortunately, the Christmas spirit didn’t seem to last. After such a lovely weekend I was sad to see that the next couple of days brought about a slight change for the worse in our daily routines. The guys got together at Imperial to rehearse a couple more times before their big Marquee gig on that coming Wednesday, and it immediately became apparent that their nerves were beginning to get the better of them. Things had actually been going pretty well up until that point. The guys had made a few improvements to their set list, and had been playing better than ever, but one sour note from John seemed to set everyone off on Monday, and the bad vibes carried over into Tuesday. They were arguing and griping over the most trivial of issues, and I was worried that if things didn’t improve, that it wouldn’t bode well for the Marquee show the following day.

We had all invited as many friends and acquaintances to the show as possible to help boost the numbers in the audience, and the guys even asked Roger’s friend, Doug, to come back up to London from Cornwall to take some live shots for them, hoping that perhaps they could use something for their album cover, whenever it was that that came to fruition. Freddie, of course, was determined to control as many aspects of the gig as possible, telling Brian, Roger and John exactly what they should wear, how they should comb their hair and how they should be posing on stage to make the most impact. He’d gotten everyone a few new things to wear on stage from Kensington Market, including a shimmery black shirt with silver metallic designs and a strange gaudy necklace with long dangling beads for Brian. He’d also gotten himself a chain mail styled glove along with a sterling silver snake armband, and he insisted that all four of the guys needed to start wearing a bit of make up for their live shows to fit in with their “glam” persona.

By Wednesday afternoon, Brian was fit to be tied. He was nervous and jittery and flitting around the flat gathering together the things that he needed for the concert as he thought of them. He even raided my make up bag, plucking out eyeliner, face powder and a light-colored lipstick to take along to the show and apply backstage. I tried to remain calm for both our sakes, and got ready early, donning my very best “rock-star-girlfriend” ensemble, which consisted of my black backless vest-like halter top with a mini-skirt and my tall brown boots. I curled my hair a bit and pulled half of it up into a clip at the top of my head letting the rest cascade down my back. I wore the turquoise necklace that Brian had given me along with a pair of silver hoop earrings, and put my make-up on a little darker and heavier than usual. I looked in the mirror when I was finished, and had to admit that I didn’t look half bad, although, the frost bite that I was liable to get from being out and about in London in December in such a skimpy outfit could very easily change all that, I decided.

Brian came in the bedroom just as I was finishing up to pack his stage clothes for the night, and did a double take as soon as he saw me.

_“That’s_ what you’re wearing tonight?” he asked me.

“Mm-hmm,” I replied, spraying on a bit of my favorite perfume.

“As if I don’t have enough to worry about…” he mumbled, shaking his head.

He gathered up all of his things and packed them in to a duffle bag while I dug my long coat, warmest scarf and trusty camera out of the closet. I bundled up the best that I could, knowing that otherwise I would freeze until we got inside the Marquee, and soon Brian had his things loaded up in the car and we were off.

When we arrived, John Harris, Freddie and Deaky were already setting things up on stage, while Roger’s friend, Doug, snapped a few pictures of the whole process. Mary, Veronica and Mags, meanwhile, sat around a small round table down by the front of the stage, which looked like it had been dragged over from the bar, and happily chatted away. Roger and Sam hadn’t arrived yet, I noticed, as I set my things down on one of the empty chairs around the table. Brian gave me a quick peck on the cheek before running off to help the guys get everything ready for the show.

I was just saying a quick hello to Doug when one of the doormen from the club came up and asked for me by name. He told me that there was a group of people outside who said they were with the band, and asked if I knew what he was talking about. I followed him to the front door and saw Annie, Olivia, Gwen and two guys from school named Jasper and David waiting there for me.

“Wow! You guys are early!” I exclaimed. 

“We thought we’d come hang out with you and give you a bit of moral support before the show started,” Annie explained.

“That would be great! Thanks guys!” I smiled. I turned to the doorman and casually said, “Yeah, they’re with me.”

That seemed to be sufficient enough information for the Marquee guy, who let them in without further ado.

Annie started chuckling under her breath as she and the others walked inside, and then said to me, “Lord! I didn’t know if they were going to let us in! But look at you! So much a part of Queen now that you can just walk over and say ‘yeah, they’re with me’ and that’s all it takes!”

“Shut up,” I teased, giving Annie a hug. I hadn’t seen her since the last day of school and realized how much I missed her daily dose of humor. I said hi to everyone else that she’d brought along and led the five of them over to the stage area where the guys were still setting up.

Doug was just dragging a few more chairs over from the bar area for my schoolmates and me when we walked up, and had already brought a table over for us as well. I told him thank you for his thoughtfulness and laid claim to one of the seats, setting my purse and camera on top of the table. I was talking with Annie and peeling my scarf from around my neck when Roger came waltzing in hand-in-hand with Sam, each of them taking a long drag off of the cigarettes they were smoking.

“Who’s the girl with Roger?” Annie whispered in my ear.

“Huh? Oh, that’s Sam. Remember, the American girl I was telling you about,” I replied.

“Wow. You didn’t tell me she was _that_ hot,” Annie said.

I had to admit, as I looked Sam over, she did look pretty incredible. Her hair was down and slightly curled back on the sides. She was wearing black heels, a black mini-skirt and a billowy white silky blouse that was unbuttoned a little lower than it should have been with a black vest over the top showcasing her slim waistline.

“Late as usual I see!” Freddie called out to Roger as he sauntered down the stairs at the side of the stage and walked over to Mary, Veronica and Mags’ table. He had a glass of water sitting near Mary’s drink, and picked it up to take a sip as he watched Roger and Sam move closer.

“Don’t start Fred,” Roger admonished as he and Sam joined everyone else around the table.

I was still standing next to my chair unbuttoning my coat so that I could lay it down with all my other things, when Annie caught sight of my outfit underneath and said, “Damn, girl! What are you wearing tonight?”

This got everyone’s attention, and soon all eyes were on me, particularly those of the guys standing in my near vicinity. I’d never felt more on display as Roger, Freddie, and even Jasper and David ran an appraising glance over my body. 

“Ooh, very nice darling!” Freddie exclaimed. “You’re finally getting the hang of dressing yourself properly!”

Roger was suddenly scowling and looking past me at Jasper, who was standing off to my left just out of my line of sight.

“You might want to tell your friend that if he leaves his mouth hanging open like that, all sorts of nasty bugs are liable to fly into it,” Roger said to me in a snarky tone.

I turned to look at Jasper, who blushed and quickly closed his mouth before saying, “Sorry. I’ve just never seen you dressed quite like this. You’re always wearing jeans and jumpers at school.”

“I think you look fantastic!” Sam exclaimed. “I love your top! Where did you get it?”

“Oh, thanks! I got it at Kensington Market, a few months ago,” I replied.

“How funny. I got my waistcoat there too,” Sam smiled, tugging at the hem of her black vest.

“Probably from the same stall too by the looks of things,” Roger grinned. He turned to Sam then and said, “Listen, I’d better go help the fellas set up. Are you going to be okay? Do you need anything?”

“No, I should be fine,” Samantha smiled back. “I’ve got Carrie to talk to, and I know they’ve got a decent bar here.”

Roger nodded, gave Sam a quick kiss, and he and Freddie made their way up onto the stage, barking out orders to John Harris the whole way.

“Sam, I’d like to introduce you to some friends of mine from school,” I said. “This is Annie, Olivia, Gwen, David and Jasper.”

“Nice to meet all of you,” Sam grinned, shaking each of their hands one by one. Once the pleasantries were exchanged she looked to me and said, “Feel like grabbing a drink?”

“I’d love to,” I replied, and Sam, Annie and me, along with everyone else from school, made our way over to the bar. The five of us girls ordered a selection of fruity, girly drinks while Jasper and David each ordered a beer. We all stood around laughing, chatting and having a good time while the noise of sound checks and instruments being tuned rang out in the background. I was happy to find that Annie and Sam got along really well and genuinely seemed to like each other. We ran the gamut of topics from our love of all things Austen to our college studies and everything in between. Sam even filled us all in on some modeling work she’d recently done for Harrod’s, which seriously seemed to impress all of my college buddies.

I was just about to ask everyone what their plans were for Christmas, when I noticed the entrance of two new people over at Mary’s table in the concert hall. A crease formed between my brows and an extreme sense of irritation washed over me when I realized who it was.

“What the hell is _she_ doing here?” I whispered to Annie and Sam.

“Who?” they both asked.

“Brian’s ex, Chrissy,” I answered, motioning my head toward the front of the stage. “She’s standing over there talking to Mary with her friend April.”

“Which one is she?” Annie asked.

“The short one with the long brown hair,” I answered.

“So that’s Chrissy, eh?” Annie asked, craning her neck to get a better view. “She’s cute, but nothing compared to you.”

“Does she always look so prim and proper?” Sam asked, looking as though she had a bad taste in her mouth.

Once I got a better look at her, I could see what Sam meant. Normally Chrissy wore relatively dowdy clothing and very little make-up, but it seemed that she’d tried to fix herself up for the Marquee, wearing a lavender mini-dress and a pair of cute pumps with her hair partially pulled back in a ribbon. Had I not known her age, I would have sworn that I was looking at a sweet little schoolgirl of sixteen. I couldn’t help but wonder if she was dressed up like that for the benefit of being at the Marquee Club, or for the benefit of seeing Brian, whom she kept gazing at as he tuned his guitar up on the stage.

I was sincerely hoping that I might not have to say much to her, that maybe I could just sort of melt into the shadows and not be noticed by either Chrissy or her friend, but sadly April spotted me at the bar with everyone, and started waving enthusiastically.

“Great. I guess we’d better go over and be sociable,” I grumbled.

Both Annie and Sam patted me on the back sympathetically as we made our way across the room. I made the necessary introductions between all of my friends and Chrissy and April, and April at least seemed genuinely happy to see me again. Chrissy, on the other hand, always got very quiet around me and I never quite knew where I stood with her. It was clear that she disapproved of me being with Brian. Whether it was because she was jealous that he was with someone else, or the fact that she just didn’t like me in particular I wasn’t quite sure. Regardless, I painted on a smile as Chrissy, April and I reminisced a bit about the camping trip back in July and talked a little about what we’d been up to since then, and thankfully, it didn’t take long before the two girls were chatting with Mary and Veronica once again while the rest of us sat down at our own table several feet away.

“Well, that was awkward,” Sam began, leaning in toward me with a hushed voice. “Why is Brian’s ex here anyway?”

“Who knows,” I said bitterly. “Mary probably invited her.”

“Yeah, so what’s the deal with Mary and Veronica anyway?” Sam asked, glancing briefly toward their table before turning back to me. “Do they just not like us, or what exactly is their problem? I mean, if you ask me, it’s pretty rude of them to invite Brian’s ex-girlfriend to the show tonight knowing that you’d be here.”

“Here’s the thing,” I whispered. “They like Chrissy because she was with Brian for four years and they got to know her. You and I are the newcomers to this little group, so therefore we’re the outsiders. And we’re both American, which doesn’t help.”

“Whatever,” Sam scoffed, rolling her eyes skyward. “You’ve been with Brian for months now. You’d think they would have accepted you by this point.”

“One would think,” I said, nodding my head in agreement. “Mary’s kind of funny, though. I don’t think she accepts people into the fold very easily. And Veronica’s really shy and just seems to go along with whatever Mary does.”

Sam continued to stare at the table where Mary, Veronica, Mags, Chrissy and April were gathered, and I could see a slight smirk beginning to form around the corners of her mouth.

“Watch this…” she whispered to me at last. She leaned forward in her seat and called out loudly, “So Chrissy, what brings you out on such a cold winter’s night anyway?”

Every girl at the other table froze, staring at Sam as though she’d suddenly sprouted a second head. Even the guys paused up on stage for a moment, glancing warily at Sam, knowing that trouble was about to brew.

Chrissy seemed unable to find her voice at first, then quietly replied, “I, um, just came out to support the guys tonight. Mary invited me.”

“Really?” Sam asked with a slightly evil glint in her eye. She looked to Mary and added, “So, do you still hang out with any other of Queen’s ex-girlfriends, or is Chrissy the only one?”

“What difference does it make to you?” Mary asked Sam haughtily.

“Well, seeing as how I’m Roger’s girlfriend now, I’d just like to know if you’re going to be as rude to me as you are to Carrie by inviting any of his exes around,” Sam replied with an edge to her voice that left no one in doubt that she would quickly and easily take care of such a situation should it arise. “I find that it’s always best to be prepared.”

You could have heard a pin drop in that moment, as all the guys blatantly stared at Sam with a look of utter shock. Chrissy and April had both turned a violent shade of red as they tried in vain to look at the table, or the floor, or anywhere other than Sam’s face. 

Mary, although clearly livid over Sam’s brash behavior, seemed to think it best to tread as lightly as possible, as she replied, “I was simply trying to invite people that I knew to the show tonight to help increase the numbers, just like we all were.” She looked directly at me as she said this. She swept a lock of her long blonde hair away from her face then as she went on, “But, if you think it’s rude for me to invite Chrissy along…”

“Oh, I don’t _think_ it’s rude, I _know_ it’s rude,” Sam interrupted. “You know damn well that if Carrie were to invite an ex of Freddie’s to a Queen show that you wouldn’t tolerate it for one second. The only difference with this situation is that Carrie is too nice to say anything to you.”

“I, um… I think I’d better go…” Chrissy suddenly said, standing up from her seat and motioning her head to April to do the same.

“No, you don’t have to go…” Mary said, tepidly reaching out across the table in a lame attempt to stop her friend.

“Yes, I think I do,” Chrissy replied. 

She and April both gathered up their things, said a quick goodbye to Mary, Veronica and Mags, and left without further ado.

“There, happy now?” Mary asked Sam vehemently. “You accused me of being rude, but you don’t think you were just as rude to her??”

“Better her than Carrie,” was Sam’s simple answer.

Roger suddenly laughed out loud from behind his drum kit at the back of the stage, and flashed Sam a thumbs up sign without saying a word.

I began chuckling under my breath, and elbowed Sam in the side, quietly saying, “That was fucking awesome!!”

“I don’t think you’ll have to worry about dealing with Chrissy anymore,” Sam smiled smugly. 

Then suddenly, from out of nowhere, two large guys with mustaches wearing expensive suits approached our little group. It was the Sheffield brothers from Trident Studios, and instantly everyone stopped what they were doing just to stare at the two imposing figures. The two men glanced around at all of us in what felt like a threatening manner, almost like a couple of schoolyard bullies, and yelled out at the guys to come down off the stage and have a chat. 

Brian, Freddie, Roger and John did as they were asked, and joined Barry and Norman Sheffield several feet away from the rest of us, with the air in the room becoming much heavier as they did so. I could hear one of the Sheffield brothers telling the band which music industry moguls he had invited to the show, and he advised the guys to really be on their game that night if they wanted their first album to finally see the light of day. All four of them listened nervously, shifting their weight from one foot to the other or chewing on fingernails as the Sheffield brothers spoke, knowing how much was riding on this one concert. It made me nervous just listening to them, and I wasn’t the one who had to perform. I could only imagine how my poor Brian was feeling.

Eventually it was time for the band to get ready for the show, and only us girlfriends followed the guys backstage while everyone else continued to mill around out in front. I told Annie and everyone from school that I’d see them shortly, and grabbed up my purse and camera to take with me before heading back with Sam. Mary and Veronica, I noticed, were keeping even more of a distance from us than usual as they followed several feet behind us.

The tension in the dressing room was palpable as the guys got ready. Freddie was the most meticulous that I’d ever seen him, making sure that every seam on his clothing was perfect and every hair was in place. Brian and John were both very quiet as they got dressed, and Roger, who was probably showing off for Sam’s benefit, was trying hard to seem relaxed and funny.

Once everyone’s clothing and hair met with Freddie’s specifications, it was time to break out the make up. The first major argument of the night came when Roger told Freddie that he hadn’t brought any make up with him.

“Darling, I told you that we’re _all_ going to wear a bit of make up tonight!” Freddie exclaimed.

“I don’t _own_ any bloody make up, Fred, and I haven’t had a chance to buy any yet, so what would you like me to do?” Roger railed.

“Jesus… Use some of mine I guess!” Freddie barked, reaching into his bag of stuff and pulling out a compact and some eyeliner, which he then slammed onto the counter in front of the mirror where he was sitting. “Honestly! I told _all_ of you to bring make up tonight! We’re supposed to be presenting ourselves as a professional, unified group! How do any of you expect us to ever get a record deal if we’re not even fit to be seen for God’s sake?!”

“Oh Lord, Freddie, shut up!” Brian grumbled. “So Roger didn’t bring make up. It’s not the end of the fucking world.”

Brian reached into his own bag and procured the make of mine that he’d brought along with him, setting it with care on the counter in front of the mirror he planned to use just down the way from Freddie’s.

“There, you see? I’ve brought some as well,” Brian proclaimed. He turned to Roger and said, “You’re more than welcome to use it if you need to.”

“Well, you’re missing the point completely, Brian!” Freddie wailed, pausing in his application of eyeliner to turn toward his friend instead. “If we’re going to portray ourselves as professionals, then we have to come to the shows prepared!”

The other three just shook their heads, knowing that if they tried to defend themselves further that it would only add fuel to Freddie’s fire. Sam and I simply looked at one another and rolled our eyes before Sam dipped into her purse to see how much make up she had with her that Roger might be able to use. If the temper tantrums we were witnessing were anything to go by, then it didn’t bode well for the guys’ performance that night.

Matters became worse when Sam, Mary, Veronica and I all went back out to find a decent spot to watch the show about forty-five minutes later, and saw that the Marquee was far from being filled with adoring fans. The majority of the people there were our own friends and acquaintances, and the show was getting close to starting. I looked around at the small crowd, hoping that at least the promised record executives had shown up, but as I scanned the faces around me, all I could see was the typical Marquee audience consisting of teenagers and 20-somethings. It was with a heavy heart that I took a spot near the stage with Sam, Annie and my other classmates, hoping that things would somehow pick up before the show started.

Unfortunately they didn’t, and the night ended up being a complete disaster. Right from the get-go, as soon as the guys burst out onto the stage, their music sounded slightly off. Freddie missed his cue on the first song, Roger seemed to be determined to play faster than usual during the second, and Brian completely messed up his solo on the third. On top of all that, there seemed to be some problems with the PA system as well. John Harris kept frantically running around fiddling with plugs and knobs, trying desperately to keep feedback and other interfering noises under control. At one point, the guys stopped the show all together so that Deaky, the band’s electronics wiz, could set down his bass and help Harris out, doing whatever it took to get the issues sorted out so that the band could carry on. The sound improved a little, but it was hardly up to Queen’s standards. The whole show was a mess from beginning to end, and my heart broke for the guys.

I kept looking around the entire night, hoping and praying that at least a few more people might have miraculously turned up, especially anybody that looked like they might work for a record company, but nobody fitting that description seemed to be there other than the Sheffield brothers, who were sequestered away at a table near the bar with a large bottle of wine and two glasses. It seemed that any glimmer of hope that the guys might have had, had officially been extinguished.

By the time the show was over, I could tell by the way the guys left the stage in a huff that things were beyond bad.

“Annie, I’ve got to go backstage and see if everything’s okay,” I said solemnly, noticing that Mary and Veronica were already on their way back.

“What happened tonight?” Annie asked with a concerned look. “No offence, but I’ve never seen them play this badly.”

“I know,” I replied, shaking my head as I gathered up my stuff. “I’ll talk to you about it later, okay? Thank you so much for coming and bringing everyone from school though. Thank God the guys had at least a few friendly faces in the audience.”

I made my way to the backstage area with Sam in tow, and before either of us could even get near the door of the dressing room, I heard the guys screaming at each other inside. Mary and Veronica were standing just inside the door looking grim as we approached, and I wasn’t entirely sure that I was prepared for what I was about to witness.

“I did not!” Roger was shouting to the others as I walked cautiously into the room, leaning my back against the wall near the door. Sam, unsure of what she should do, continued lurking in the hall outside. “I played _Great King Rat_ just the way I always do!”

“No you did not!” Freddie cried, tossing his stage clothes forcefully into his bag. “You played it too fast and you fucking well know that you did!”

“You’re one to talk!” Roger shot back, ripping his shirt up over his head. “You flubbed the entire first line of _Son and Daughter!”_

“So I missed my cue!” Freddie screamed. “No one could tell that I did, but they sure as hell could tell that you completely fucked up the entire next song!”

“God, will you two shut the hell up!” Brian groaned. “You’re giving me a fucking headache!”

“Oh, don’t you even start with me!” Freddie shot back. “You completely fucked up my song _Jesus_ and you know it!”

“Well you fucked up _my_ song _Son and Daughter,_ so I guess that makes us even you bitchy old tart!” Brian shouted as he snapped the lid shut on his guitar case much harder than was necessary.

“Oh, yes! Of course! _I’m_ the bitchy old tart because I expect my band to play the way they’re supposed to!” Freddie screeched as he changed back into the clothes he came to the gig in.

“Since when are we _your_ band?!” Brian demanded. “Last time I checked, Roger and I started this whole thing long before you ever came into the picture!”

“Oh yes, and Smile was so successful,” Freddie scoffed. “That must be why your singer left you!”

I was nearly in tears listening to the insults that were being hurled around the room, and didn’t even notice when the Sheffield brothers approached. They walked inside the dressing room and added insult to injury by asking the guys why they had played so badly.

“Who gives a fuck whether we did or not!” Freddie wailed. “Where were all these record executives you promised us?!”

“You know, with an attitude like that, I’m starting to wonder just how badly you boys want to make it in this business,” Barry Sheffield said, his arms folded intimidatingly across his chest.

Brian looked as if he were about to explode, and grabbed up his guitar case and duffle bag saying, “I can’t listen to this shit anymore!”

He flew out the door of the dressing room, not saying another word to anybody, including me, and I figured that I was just supposed to follow him, so I did. We strode out through the club past Annie and everybody else that was there for the show, receiving some concerned looks as we went. I just smiled meekly at Annie and gave her a small wave before putting on my coat and scarf as I followed Brian out the front door.

We walked in silence all the way to the car, and rode in silence all the way home. I’d never seen Brian so upset, and I didn’t know what to say or do.

Once we got home, Brian quickly put away his guitar while I took off my coat and scarf and set my things on the kitchen table. I watched as Brian flopped onto the couch, slouched against the back, and silently stared up at the ceiling.

I walked toward him trepidatiously, sat quietly on the couch, and asked, “Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not okay,” Brian fumed, running his hands through his hair.

“What can I do?” I asked. “Do you want me to just leave you alone for the rest of the night?”

“I just don’t understand any of this,” Brian replied, shaking his head. “Roger, Freddie, John and I have been working our _arses_ off trying to get this group to make it! We’ve all made sacrifices, hell, I’ve given up my years of education, just so that we can see this group succeed! And yet, nothing has happened. We’ve recorded an album of our best work that’s probably never going to see the light of day. We keep getting promise after promise from everyone that our big break is just around the corner, but nothing ever happens. I can’t take it anymore. This has been going on for too many years now. I just find myself second guessing every decision that I’ve ever made.”

I listened with patience to Brian’s rant, my heart twisting inside my chest, wishing that there was something that I could do for him.

I held back my tears, not wanting him to feel any worse than he already did, and simply said, “I’m here for you. Please know that. I know that I can’t possibly understand what you’re going through right now, but just know that I’m here for anything you need.”

Brian reached out and quickly squeezed my hand before getting lost in a myriad of anger and frustration again. I got up off the couch and changed my clothes, letting Brian have his space and hoping that the next few days would somehow help heal his wounds.


	62. Chapter 62

I didn’t think that it would be possible for things to get any worse after the disaster of the Marquee gig, but somehow they did. I spent the next couple of days after the show trying to cheer Brian up and nurse him back to a state of well being, but it was very slow going. He spent most of the day and most of the night lying on the couch zoned out in front of the TV not wanting to do much of anything. I brought him tea, made him his favorite meals and even suggested that we go for walks so that he could clear his head, but for the most part, none of it helped. He hadn’t showered or shaved for a couple of days and he was starting to resemble Grizzly Adams. When his mom called and invited us over for a Christmas get-together on the following Saturday I insisted that we go, even though Brian kept saying that he really wasn’t up for it. I wasn’t going to take no for an answer, though, and I finally got him off the couch to shower and shave, eventually getting him out of the flat so that we could stop by a couple different shops to pick up some Christmas gifts for his parents before heading for their house. I thought that things were finally looking up a bit and that, perhaps, if Brian spent an evening surrounded by people who loved him, it might help him feel a little better.

The evening started out well enough with the four of us sitting down to a lovely home made dinner prepared by Ruth, and afterwards we popped open our Christmas crackers and nibbled on mince pies as we sat around the fire in the living room to open presents. Everyone was laughing and chatting and having a good time, and just as the last present was opened, admired and set aside, things suddenly took a turn for the worse. Brian’s dad brought up the subject of school and asked his son how things were going and how soon he thought it would be before his paper was finished. Brian tried to change the subject, but it was obvious that Harold wasn’t going to let it drop. Finally, with a grim expression that provided proof of the heavy heart beating inside his chest, Brian confessed to his parents that he wasn’t planning on continuing with his degree work. Harold and Ruth were in an utter state of shock, lecturing their son on the evils of such a choice, but Brian stood his ground, telling them that he felt music was his calling and that he hoped that Queen was going to get their big break one day soon. His parents, however, had no desire whatsoever to hear about how he wanted to ruin his career and his future on the off chance that he might be a rock star someday, and told him as much, making him feel guilty and miserable over his decision. I knew that Brian had always been the perfect child for his parents, always doing what he was told and never giving them a moment’s concern, and to suddenly feel like a colossal disappointment in their eyes after twenty five years of being the “good boy” was clearly killing him. His father was nearly in tears telling Brian that he was throwing his life away, and Brian, starting to get angry over the whole situation, told his dad that if he couldn’t be supportive of the fact that his only son wanted to follow his dreams, then they had nothing further to say to each other.

Brian got up and gathered his things together, leaving the Christmas presents given to him by his parents lying on the floor, as he put on his coat and prepared to leave. I decided that I’d better follow suit, and quickly gathered up my things as well, as Brian reached for my hand and led me out through the front door of his parents’ house without a backwards glance. Little did I know that it was to be the last time I would step foot in that house, or see Brian’s dad, for quite some time.

Brian spent a restless night that night getting up and down out of bed before finally winding up on the couch again where I eventually walked in and found him staring at the opposite wall, his arms folded across his chest, the traces of anger and resentment still filling his beautiful hazel eyes. It was clear how much pain Brian was in and I wanted desperately to be able to do something to help him. I knew that Brian would never be able to express his true feelings to his dad in person, so I suggested the only thing I could think of, that he write how he felt in a letter. I hoped that it might be cathartic for him, helping him get out his anger and frustration in a way that he normally couldn’t, and then he could decide, once things calmed down a bit, if he wanted to give the letter to his dad or not. Brian liked this idea, and immediately reached for the pad of paper and pen that was always lying around on the coffee table, while I went back to bed to give him his space.

I had never felt so helpless in my life. I spent half of the night kicking myself for insisting that we go to Brian’s parents’ house in the first place, knowing that Brian was already feeling down, and the other half of the night wanting to knock some sense in to Brian’s dad’s head. I had known that Harold and Ruth would be disappointed over Brian quitting school, but I had no idea that they would make Brian feel like a complete and utter failure over the fact. The more I thought about their reaction and some of the things they’d said, knowing what a kind and sensitive person Brian was, the angrier it made me.

The next day was Christmas Eve, a day that was supposed to be happy and cheerful, particularly since Brian and I had tickets to see David Bowie at the Rainbow. I woke up in bed alone, and wandered out to the living room to find Brian sprawled out across the couch, sleeping restlessly. A pen still dangled precariously from his right hand, and when I glanced down at the coffee table, I found not only a long letter written to his dad, but the lyrics to a song as well which he had entitled _Father To Son._ I didn’t read what he had written in the letter, because I knew that that was between him and his dad, but I quickly read over his lyrics, and the line _“But my letter to you will stay by your side through the years ‘til the loneliness is gone…”_ immediately brought tears to my eyes. It seemed as though Brian had meant what he’d said to his dad. If Harold couldn’t be supportive of his dreams, then he didn’t plan on seeing to him for a while. I knew how much he loved his dad and looked up to him, and my heart broke for them both.

Neither of us really felt much like going out and having fun that night, but since the money had been spent for the Bowie tickets, we both felt that it would be a waste if we didn’t go. We went through the motions of getting showered and dressed and made our way to the Rainbow to see a show that only ended up making Brian feel worse about his life than he already did. We stayed up late that night talking about everything that had happened over the last few days, and as far as the concert at the Rainbow was concerned, the only thing that Brian could focus on was the fact that Bowie had made it and Queen hadn’t. He confessed to me that he was sick of playing small insignificant places like the Marquee or Kings College Hospital, and that he dreamed of being up on a stage like the Rainbow playing to a large adoring crowd. It was starting to feel like it was never going to happen as far as he was concerned, and now on top of everything, he had to live with the fact that if Queen didn’t make it, he’d thrown away his education and upset his parents. The stress in his life was becoming too much to handle.

We fell asleep on the couch that night, wrapped up in each other’s arms just like we had the first night he’d stayed at my flat. When we woke up in the morning we were facing each other, and I simply laid there for a little while studying his sweet face, noticing that his recent lack of sleep was starting to take a toll by leaving dark circles under his eyes. I reached up to wipe a stray curl out of his face, and slowly his eyes drifted open.

I smiled at him and said, “Merry Christmas Mr. May.”

“Merry Christmas Mrs. May,” he replied, smiling weakly at me.

I wrapped my arms around him even tighter, snuggling up against his chest so that I could hear his heart beating.

“I love you, you know,” I said.

“I love you too,” he replied, stroking the back of my head.

“I know the last few days have been rough,” I began, “but this is our first Christmas together.”

“I know,” Brian said quietly, gently pushing me away from him slightly so that I could look into his eyes again. He smiled sweetly at me, tucked a lock of my hair behind my ear and said, “I decided before I ever fell asleep last night that all this crap I’ve been going through wasn’t going to ruin our Christmas. I know I don’t tell you this enough, but I’m so lucky to have you in my life. I’m so lucky to have someone who loves me and cares about me and sticks with me through thick and thin, no matter how pissed off or depressed I might get. So, I just want to say thank you. Thank you for always being there for me and putting up with me. I love you more than I can say.”

“I love you too,” I said, tears welling up in my eyes. “And I will always be there for you. That I promise.”

“Ah, no crying,” Brian said softly, wiping the tears from my cheeks as they fell from my eyes. “Today’s a happy day. It’s Christmas, and we’ve got presents to open.”

I laughed and said, “Are you ready to open them now?”

“Are you joking? I’ve been ready since I first saw them lying on the bed!” Brian smiled.

We untangled our bodies and rolled off of the couch finding a couple of spots on the floor near the tree where we sat across from each other Indian style and took turns opening each present one at a time. Brian loved everything that I got him, and was truly shocked that I had found a first edition copy of _Out of The Silent Planet._ The stereoscopic photos were also a big hit, as he sat looking through the stack one picture at a time, and the stereo camera just about sent him over the moon. He was like a kid with a new toy, looking it over, playing with all the knobs and dials and chomping at the bit to go outside and take a few shots with it. It made my heart feel like it had wings to see him happy and smiling again.

The things he’d gotten me were incredible as well, and I too felt like a kid as I tore into the wrapping paper of each present to find the surprise within. It was funny how much we actually thought alike. I had gotten him the latest Jimi Hendrix album, and he had gotten me the latest Dave Clark album called _Dave Clark and Friends._ I had gotten him a Jimi Hendrix biography, and he had gotten me a Jane Austen biography called _Only A Novel: The Double Life of Jane Austen,_ which I couldn’t wait to read. The other three things he’d gotten me were even bigger surprises. The first was a gorgeous silver necklace with a heart-shaped pendant that had a small aquamarine birthstone sitting right in the center. I gasped with delight and immediately had Brian help me put it on vowing that it would never leave my neck again. The next present I opened was larger, and I was utterly shocked to find what appeared to be an antique gown inside.

“I hope you like it,” Brian hesitated. “Freddie and Roger got it in with a bunch of other old clothes for their stall, and I told them if they ever found anything that looked Regency to save it for me. I don’t know if it’s the right era…”

“It’s amazing,” I breathed, pulling the filmy pale pink gown out of the cardboard box that Brian had wrapped it in. “A real Indian muslin dress probably from about the early to mid 1820s.”

“You can tell all that by just looking at it?” Brian asked.

“Oh yes,” I nodded, examining the embroidered detail on the short puffed sleeves. “The length of the waistline and the fact that the sleeves are set slightly off the shoulder are a dead giveaway. I can’t believe what fantastic condition it’s in! Whoever owned this must have taken incredibly good care of it.”

“I take it you like it then?” Brian smiled.

“Like it? I _love_ it!” I exclaimed, leaning over to give him a kiss.

Then, just when I thought he couldn’t possibly top such an amazing gift, he managed to by making me something with his own two hands that was so personal and meant so much, that I instantly had tears in my eyes.

“This one’s not much really…” he said in a self-effacing manner as I tore off the wrapping paper.

I was shocked to find a do-it-yourself model kit inside with a picture of a 1969 Camaro on the front.

“You got me a Camaro model?” I grinned.

“Open the box,” Brian urged.

I pulled off the lid, and there inside was the model, already perfectly put together and painted to look exactly like my Camaro back home.

“I know you miss your car, and even though you can’t drive this one, I thought it might remind you of home,” Brian shrugged.

I instantly burst into tears and reached for him, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him toward me for a big hug.

“Why are you crying?” Brian asked, squeezing me tight.

“Because you’re so perfect,” I said, wiping a tear from my face. I leaned back and studied the car more closely, taking in every last detail and asked, “Where did you get this? And when did you have time to make it? I didn’t even know you were doing something like this!”

“I ordered it from an old modeling catalog I had lying around and had it shipped to Roger’s place so that you wouldn’t know about it,” Brian grinned. “I’ve been working on it late at night whenever I couldn’t sleep.”

“So that’s what I was smelling when I’d wake up in the mornings!” I exclaimed. “When I asked you what smelled like paint you said you’d been polishing your guitar!”

“You bought it, didn’t you?” Brian laughed.

“You’re more sneaky and conniving than I gave you credit for!” I said.

The two of us laughed and then moved on to the large cardboard box that my parents had sent us. I let Brian do the honor of ripping open the tape on the outside, and inside we found three wrapped gifts and a bunch of American food to replenish my dwindling stock.

“Let’s see, this one has your name on it,” I said to Brian, handing him a medium sized box. “This one has my name on it, and…Oh yes! I know what this one is!”

I pulled out a small box wrapped in a bright red Christmas paper with gold holly leaves all over it, and detected the barely perceptible word “See’s” interwoven in the pattern.

“What is it?” Brian asked.

“This, my dear, is the best chocolate on the planet,” I answered.

“Chocolate?” Brian asked, his eyebrows shooting up in the air. “Well by all means, open the damn thing!”

I laughed and ripped open the paper exposing the classic white See’s Candy box underneath with the small portrait of Mary See on the lid. I opened it up and held the box toward Brian so that he could have first pick. If there was one thing that we had in common for sure, it was our love of chocolate. We both sat sighing over how good the candy was as we popped second and then third pieces into our mouths.

“Ah, the breakfast of champions,” I teased, licking bits of chocolate off of my fingers. 

Brian laughed and said, “You’d better open the present they sent you.”

I did just that, and found a lovely cream-colored scarf and matching hat inside.

“Pretty,” Brian said, reaching out to feel the scarf as I wrapped it around my neck.

I put the hat on over my messy hair and told Brian to open his present next.

“I can’t believe your parents even sent me anything,” Brian said, shaking his head.

“Even though you’re living in sin with their daughter, they must not think you’re all bad,” I smirked.

Brian paused in ripping the paper off of the box, gave me a scandalized look and said, “Thanks, I feel loads better now.”

The box contained a very nice knitted navy blue sweater that Brian was more than happy with. He tried it on right then and there to see how it fit, and we both proclaimed that it looked perfect. 

The cat, meanwhile, was dashing through the piles of wrapping paper now littering the floor, jumping in and out of empty boxes, and generally having a wonderful time. It occurred to us that we’d gotten a couple of things for little Harold too, and helped him open up his packages. Inside one was a yarn ball doused with catnip, and the other contained a small furry mouse that had Harold doing backflips as he tried to chase it down.

The two of us were sitting there laughing at the cat and looking through our stockings to see what kinds of sweets we’d gotten each other when a knock sounded at the door surprising us both. Brian got up to answer it, and lo and behold, it was Roger.

“Happy Christmas!” he smiled as he walked inside.

“Hey Rog,” I grinned. “What are you up to?”

“Just bored,” he shrugged. “I thought I’d come over and see what the two of you were up to.”

“I figured you’d be with Sam,” Brian said, finding his spot on the floor again and clearing some wrapping paper and boxes out of the way so that Roger could join us.

“Nah, she went to see her family up in Suffolk for Christmas,” Roger said, kneeling down on the floor next to us.

“What about you? I’m surprised you’re not down in Cornwall,” I said, unwrapping a Cadbury Dairy Milk bar and taking a bite.

“My mum and sister are coming by later,” Roger replied.

“And bringing lots of presents I assume?” Brian grinned.

“I hope so!” Roger laughed. “So what did you lot get? Other than a new jumper and a hat and scarf, all of which looks lovely with the pajamas you’re both wearing, by the way.”

He reached over at that point, before I realized what he was doing, and snapped a chunk off of my Dairy Milk bar and popped it into his mouth.

“Do you mind??” I griped.

“Not really,” Roger smirked, licking the chocolate off of his fingers dramatically.

“You know, you really are like the brother I never wanted,” I said, shaking my head.

“So did you like the old dress that Brian got you?” Roger asked.

“Are you kidding, I love it!” I answered.

“Was it Regency then?”

“Very close, 1820s by the looks of it,” I replied.

“Freddie and I both thought of you as soon as we saw it,” Roger confessed. “We immediately called Brian and told him he had to buy it for you, and we didn’t even gouge him on the price or anything.”

“Well, what wonderful friends you both are for _not_ robbing your best friend blind,” I said sarcastically.

“I thought so,” Roger grinned. He looked at Brian then and asked, “So what did you think of all the old junk that Carrie got for you?”

“Old junk?” Brian railed. “None of it is junk. I love everything that Carrie got me. In fact, I’ll have to take some pictures of you with my new stereo camera while you’re here.”

“You two ducks absolutely slay me, you know that?” Roger said, shaking his head. “You’re the only people I know of that are happier with somebody’s old second-hand trash than brand new modern stuff. You’re hands down the most bizarre, eccentric people that I’ve ever met. You two were absolutely meant for each other.”

“High praise indeed!” Brian laughed.

“So where’s breakfast anyway?” Roger scowled. “I figured you two would have some big Christmas breakfast on the table by now.”

“Well,” I began, “it just so happens that my mom sent me a whole box full of my favorite American foods for Christmas.”

“Ooh, where?” Roger asked as he looked on the floor all around him. He spotted the box and immediately started digging through the contents. “Let’s see… Bisquik, I remember this stuff. Maple syrup. Lucky Charms. What are Lucky Charms?”

“My favorite breakfast cereal,” I told him.

“Can I have some?” he asked.

“That’s fine,” I relented, shaking my head at him.

Just as we were about to get up and pour ourselves a bowl, another knock sounded at the door.

“What is this, Grand Central Station?” I asked, looking at Brian.

“Uh, I’m not quite sure what you mean by that, but we do seem to be getting an awful lot of company this morning,” Brian replied, heading for the door.

This time it was his mom, of all people.

“Mum,” Brian said, sounding surprised.

“Can I come in?” she asked tentatively. 

“Of course,” Brian said, waving her inside.

I wasn’t quite sure, after what had happened two nights before, what kind of visit this was going to be. It instantly struck me that she was there alone, though. I’d never seen Brian’s mom go anywhere without his dad.

“Good morning, Carrie. Happy Christmas,” Ruth said, looking a little haggard as she sat down on the couch. I noticed that she had a couple of large paper shopping bags in her hands.

“Happy Christmas,” I replied with a small smile.

“Roger, I’m surprised to see you here,” Ruth went on. “Why aren’t you at home with your family in Cornwall?”

“They’re coming by my flat later today,” Roger said.

“Ah, I see,” she answered. She looked to Brian then, who was sitting on the arm of the couch opposite his mom his arms folded across his chest, and said, “You, um, you left without your gifts the other night.”

“Oh, uh, yeah…” Brian said quietly, taking the shopping bags from his mom as she held them out to him. 

I could tell that Ruth wanted to talk to Brian alone, so I tapped Roger on the arm and said, “Let’s go see about that cereal.”

I grabbed the box of Lucky Charms out of the cardboard box my mom had sent, and led the way into the kitchen where I immediately procured two bowls from the cupboard.

“What’s going on?” Roger whispered once we were both firmly ensconced in the kitchen. “The tension is thick enough to cut with a knife in there.”

“Brian had a big fight with his parents the other night,” I whispered back.

“Over what?” Roger asked.

“He told them that he wasn’t going to continue with his PHD studies, and they weren’t very happy,” I replied.

“Oh shit. _I_ didn’t even know for sure that he was going to quit,” Roger scowled. “When did he decide this?”

“Just recently,” I said, popping open the box of cereal and pouring some into each of the bowls. “He’s been struggling with his decision since August though.”

“So what made him finally decide?”

“Well, his professors kept giving him shit over his paper, saying that he had to re-do it every time he tried to hand it in, and he finally just got fed up,” I answered, reaching into the fridge for the milk.

“Fuck. He’s been working on that paper for ages,” Roger said, leaning his back against the kitchen counter.

“I know. It’s unbelievable to me what he’s been put through over the whole thing.”

“So what did his parents say? I bet his dad went mental.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” I said, getting a couple of spoons out of the kitchen drawer. I handed one of the bowls to Roger and the two of us stood there quietly eating as we tried to eavesdrop on Brian’s conversation with his mom.

“You need to realize what a shock it was to your father and me,” we could hear Ruth say. “Your father has dreamed of you finishing your education for years, Brian.”

“I know that, Mum, but I’m not dad. I have to do what’s right for me,” Brian argued.

“I just don’t know that you’ve thought this through, son,” Ruth continued on.

“Mum,” Brian said exasperatedly, “I’ve thought of little else since September at least. You have no idea how heavily this has been weighing on me. Do you think I like disappointing you and Dad?”

“I just don’t understand why you can’t continue on with your schoolwork and still be a part of Queen.”

“Because, Mum, I just can’t. I explained all of this to you and dad the other night, and I really don’t want to go over it all again.”

“Well, I hope everything works out for you Brian. You know, your father and I just want what’s best for you. We don’t want to see you struggle with money the way we’ve had to.”

“I know, Mum, trust me, I’ve thought about all of this for months, but it’s going to be okay. I’m going to be okay. Do you want to see me give up music and have regrets for the rest of my life?”

“Of course not son…”

“Then you have to trust me,” Brian said. “I know I’ve probably lost Dad over all this, but I don’t want to lose you too.”

“Brian, you’re never going to lose me,” Ruth said quietly. “I may not agree with your decision, but I will always love you, and I promise to be as supportive as I can.”

“That’s all I’m asking for, Mum,” Brian said.

The two of them chatted a bit longer before Ruth finally got up off of the couch to leave. She popped her head briefly inside of the kitchen and said, “Good to see you again Roger, tell your mum and sister I said hi. Carrie, have a lovely Christmas dear.”

“I will,” Roger said.

“You too,” I said nearly at the same time.

Roger and I exchanged a brief look over our cereal bowls as we listened to Brian say goodbye to his mom and shut the door as she left.

“Well, now that the awkward Christmas visit from my mother is over, how about if we have a nice big breakfast?” Brian asked as he walked into the kitchen. “Is it too early for a beer?”

“Nah, never too early for a beer,” Roger grinned. “I’ll have one with you if you want.”

“Why don’t you two grab a couple of beers and go sit down in the living room while I use my new box of Bisquik and bottle of maple syrup to make us all some pancakes?” I smiled.

“Sounds good to me,” Roger replied. “Although, if I eat more sugar, there’s a good chance that I might go into a diabetic coma after eating that cereal.”

“I’ll be sure to dial 999 if that happens,” I smirked.

Thankfully things settled down relatively quickly and the stress of Ruth’s visit was soon forgotten. The guys chatted and laughed about the David Bowie concert we’d gone to see the night before, the mishaps at the Marquee gig, and how they both felt that 1973 was going to be a better year for Queen. As soon as the pancakes were ready I took a plateful in to each of the guys, and the three of us sat around the TV watching some silly Christmas parade while we laughed at the participants. It might not have been quite the first Christmas that I’d envisioned for Brian and me, but we were happy and laughing, and I supposed in the end that I couldn’t ask for more than that.


	63. Chapter 63

The year 1973 roared in like a lion. The weather was brutal with blizzard-like conditions settling into London on New Year’s Eve. Brian and I had planned to spend the dawn of the New Year at Freddie’s with everyone, partying and drinking champagne, but we realized when we looked out through our kitchen window to the street below at around three o’clock that afternoon, and could no longer see Brian’s car underneath the pile of snow that was covering it, that the party was probably a lost cause. The weatherman on the evening’s news couldn’t stress enough how dangerous the conditions were not just in London, but all over the British Isles, and implored people to stay indoors where it was safe and warm. Around six o’clock that evening we finally got a call from a very disgruntled Freddie, saying that the party had officially been scrapped. 

Although Brian and I were naturally a little disappointed that we couldn’t see our friends and have a good time for the dawn of a new year, we were far from devastated, and spent the evening cuddling and making out on the couch underneath a blanket, watching New Year’s celebrations from around the world on the BBC while we munched on popcorn and drank a couple of Brian’s beers.

“Happy New Year Mrs. May,” Brian smiled as he held his beer bottle up so that I could clink mine against it.

“Happy New Year Mr. May,” I smiled back, tapping the top of my bottle against his. We each took a swig of our beer, then Brian leaned in to give me a long, passionate kiss as church bells all around London rang out twelve times.

Our cat, Harold, clearly didn’t want to be left out of ringing in the New Year with us, and jumped onto our blanket, reaching up to nuzzle our chins before curling up into a ball on our laps. It may not have been a very glamorous or terribly exciting way to start the New Year, but it was sweet and cozy, and I found that I was actually sort of glad that the severe weather had forced Freddie to cancel his party after all.

Of course, blustery conditions can only keep a California girl entertained for so long, and after a few days of more snow and sleet than I’d ever seen in my entire life, I was more than ready for the bad weather to come to an end. Thankfully, a few days into January it did, and Brian and I were finally able to unbury his car and trudge down to the grocery store on foot, bundled up in coats, hats and scarves, to replenish the meager provisions in our flat. 

The eighth of January rolled around a few days later, and with it came the start of my third semester at King’s College. With the hustle and bustle of the holidays, I hadn’t really taken the time to think much about school, but suddenly and very unexpectedly on my first day back, the reality hit me that not only was it going to be my third semester at King’s College, but it was also going to be my last. I barely made it through the day, as I sat in each and every class thinking about the fact that I would never see the inside of my beloved school again after the month of May. I wouldn’t see my teachers or Annie, and worst of all, of course, it meant that it would soon be time to go back to the States. By the time my last class was over I was crying to the point that Annie had to help me walk out to Brian’s waiting car. As soon as Brian caught a glimpse of my tear-stained face, he immediately reached for the handle of his car door, unfolding his long body from the confines and racing across the short distance that it took to reach me.

“What’s wrong?!” Brian demanded of Annie. “What happened?!”

“She had a bit of a melt down today,” Annie said quietly, her arm still wrapped firmly around my shoulders as other students passed by and gawked at me curiously. “It occurred to her that this is her last semester at King’s College, and that come May…”

I wailed even louder as the words left Annie’s lips.

“Oh no…” Brian said in a worried voice, shaking his head slightly as he reached out to fold me up in his arms. He pressed the side of my face into his chest, stroking my hair affectionately, as he said, “Baby, it’s going to be okay…”

“I’ll just let you take things from here,” Annie said to Brian as she gave me one last pat on the back. “Have her call me if she needs to chat.”

“I will,” Brian agreed.

I cried all the way home that afternoon, and once I was home, I laid on the couch and cried all evening as well. Brian made me a sandwich and a cup of tea, and tried to cheer me up as best he could, but I just couldn’t shake the thought that in only a few months, I would no longer be living in England. No more flat, no more little Harold, no more Brian. Where had an entire year gone? I found myself wondering. It seemed impossible that I’d already been in England for a whole twelve months. At the rate that time had been passing by, I knew that May would arrive in the blink of an eye, and I simply wasn’t prepared for it.

I muddled through school as best I could for the remainder of the week, and the weather seemed to echo my mood as the sleet and snow turned into icy, gloomy fog. The more I thought about moving back to America, the more I struggled against it. I would simply drop out of school, I decided one afternoon. That would solve everything. Brian had dropped out of school, so why couldn’t I? Who needed a master’s degree anyway, right? I would do just fine with a bachelor’s degree I was sure! I had Brian, and Brian was all that I needed. 

Then again, once I thought about things a little more, I realized that if I were to drop out of school, my grants and loans and the money from my parents would instantly be cut off. That would make it difficult for Brian and me to pay our rent, or even eat for that matter. I could look for a job, I supposed, but without my master’s degree under my belt, I wouldn’t be able to work in any of the fields that I’d hoped to work in. My dreams of being a history teacher or working in a lovely museum like The Victoria and Albert would be out the window. The thought of scraping by and struggling to pay the bills while I worked my fingers to the bone everyday at a meaningless job that I hated didn’t sound very inspiring. Despite the fact that I couldn’t bear to leave Brian and our life together, I knew that I had to finish up my degree, or neither of us would ever be happy or content. 

After a week’s worth of reflection and discontent, I came to the conclusion that I had to pull myself up by the bootstraps. I had to be strong for both Brian and me or we would wind up drowning in a sea of tears and depression together. I had to look toward the future. I had to look ahead to the days when my schooling would be over and Brian and I would be back together once again. The last thing that either of us needed was to waste our precious time dwelling on the bad things that were to come. Instead, I would think positively, and enjoy what little time we had left in each other’s company, and that would be that.

Little did I know by the middle of January, however, that events were on the horizon that would take my mind off of school, and worries of going back to America, completely. It initially appeared to Brian and the other guys that the year 1973 was going to be very much like 1972 had been for Queen. There were talks of one or two live shows perhaps in a couple of months or so, and Trident was still professing that they were working on getting the band signed to a record label, but the disappointment from the Marquee gig at the end of December still hung in the air like a toxic black cloud, and no one dared get their hopes up too high.

So, when the phone rang one foggy afternoon, I was shocked to hear an excited little lilt to Brian’s voice as he spoke to whoever was on the other end of the line.

“Yes, certainly. We can definitely do that,” Brian said. He reached for a tablet and pen near the phone, balanced the receiver on his shoulder against one ear and wrote as he asked, “The 5th of February was it? And you’ve already contacted Freddie and the others? Brilliant! And how many songs did you say? Just four. Right. Excellent. Well, we’ll see you on the 5th then! All right, bye then, bye.”

“Who was that?” I asked as I watched Brian hang up the phone, an enthusiastic sparkle lighting up his eyes.

“It was a chap named Bernie Andrew from BBC 1 Radio,” Brian replied in a slightly stunned voice. “They want Queen to record four songs for an upcoming John Peel show.”

“John Peel?!” I exclaimed. “But we listen to his radio show all the time!”

“I know!” Brian said with a crooked grin, the wheels in his head spinning about a mile a minute.

Before I could say anything more, a loud knock sounded at the door, followed immediately by a highly agitated voice calling out, “Brian! Carrie! Open up! It’s Freddie!”

Brian’s smile broadened as he walked the short distance to the door. He’d barely gotten the door open a crack, when Freddie came bursting inside shouting, “Did they call you? Did you hear the news??”

“Yes,” Brian laughed as he shut the door. “I just got off the phone with them!”

“Can you believe it?!” Freddie enthused. “The John Peel Show!! How many major acts have we listened to on his show?!” Brian opened his mouth to answer, but Freddie was caught up in the moment as he crossed the room, and burst out with, “Pink Floyd! David Bowie! T-Rex! Slade!”

“Nazareth, Zeppelin, yes, I know! I know!” Brian exclaimed.

“My God, this is unbelievable!” Freddie breathed, clapping a hand to his forehead. “We have so much to consider for something this important!”

Before Brian could put in his two cents worth, another loud knock sounded at the door. Brian was still standing just a few feet from the door, and immediately turned to open it.

“Is Freddie here? Did you get a call from the BBC??” Roger asked excitedly. He too pushed his way into our flat, his big blue eyes sparkling animatedly, as a smiling Sam followed in right behind him clutching onto his hand.

“Yes! I just got off the phone with them! Come in! Come in!” Brian grinned, as he ushered both Roger and Sam inside with an outstretched hand.

“There you are!” Roger said to Freddie. “I tried calling your place, but Mary said that you’d come over here.”

“Can you believe that we’re going to be on the John Peel show??” Freddie asked Roger ecstatically.

“No, I can’t!” Roger laughed. “I can’t believe Trident got a gig like this for us! We’ve been listening to this bloke’s radio show for years!”

“This could really be it fellas,” Freddie breathed. “This could finally be our big break! Think how many people are going to be listening to this show!!”

“Oh my God, I’m not sure I want to think about that…” Brian said nervously, running a hand through his curls.

“What songs are we going to do?” Roger asked.

“Brian and I were just starting to think about that before you turned up,” Freddie said. “We need to get John over here!”

And as if on cue, another knock sounded at the door. Brian reached out to answer it, and sure enough it was John, standing on our doorstep with his eyes shining as bright as a toddler’s on Christmas morning.

“Did you get the news?” he asked Brian excitedly.

“Yes! We all did!” Brian laughed, opening the door all the way and motioning at the crowd that had gathered inside our tiny flat.

“Ah! Brilliant! Everyone’s here!” John smiled as he quickly wiped his feet on our doormat and came inside.

All four guys gathered around our coffee table to begin their important deliberations, while Sam and I just smiled at each other, and wandered into the kitchen to procure tea and snacks like the dutiful little girlfriends that we were. Luckily I had some store-bought shortbread cookies on hand, as well as some traditional English cream crackers, so I had Sam arrange both on a plate for me while I made a pot of tea.

By the time we made it back into the living room with snacks and tea in hand, the guys were all leaning over the coffee table with their heads together, watching as Brian scribbled something onto the tablet that he generally wrote his song ideas in. Sam and I set our offerings on the table in front of the guys, and pulled up a couple of kitchen chairs across from them to watch the proceedings.

“Okay, so we’ve got _Keep Yourself Alive_ and _Liar,”_ Brian said, tapping the end of the pen on the tablet. “What other two songs are we going to do?”

“Why can’t we do _Modern Times Rock ‘n’ Roll?”_ Roger asked with a slight scowl.

“Because, darling, we have to think commercial success,” Freddie chided. “We have to think of the songs that we’re known for and that have been successful for us during our live shows. And besides, we’ve already got two hard rockers on the list. We need to do a couple of tunes that are a bit slower as well. Show off our range to everyone listening.”

“What about _My Fairy King?”_ John suggested. “We added that to the last live set we played and it seemed to go down pretty well.”

“Yes! I like it!” Freddie declared.

“Of course you like it! It’s your bloody song!” Roger railed.

“No, I think John’s right,” Brian interjected. “It would be a great slower song, and I bet it would sound fantastic on the radio.”

He jotted down the words _My Fairy King_ on the list, and since no one came up with a valid argument why it shouldn’t be added to their set, then on the list it stayed.

“Right,” Brian said. “One more. And personally, I think it should be _Doin’ Alright.”_

“Your song, of course,” Roger smirked.

“No, it has nothing to do with that,” Brian replied. “I’m suggesting it because it’s a song that we’ve been playing since our Smile days. Out of all of the songs that we’ve written, it’s probably the one that we’re best known for.”

“I agree,” Freddie said. “And it’s still on the slower side. I think that it would make the perfect fourth song.”

“Any objections before I write it down?” Brian asked, looking around at all three guys.

“No, I think the four songs we’ve come up with sound perfect,” John said.

“Yeah, all right, I guess these sound pretty good,” Roger acquiesced. “But if we get the chance to do another one of these shows, then I want _Modern Times Rock ‘n’ Roll_ to be in the mix!”

“Fine, fine, darling,” Freddie said with a dismissive wave. “You’ll get your spot on the next show.”

Soon enough, February 5th rolled around, and since it was on a Monday, I was forced to ditch my classes that day. School was important, of course, especially since it was my last semester at King’s College, but there was absolutely no way in hell that I was going to miss my guys recording songs that were going to end up on a famous radio show! 

We all met up at Langham 1 Studio at the allotted time – Sam, Mary, Veronica and me all there to give our guys some support – and I watched with fascination as the producer of the show, Bertie Andrew, showed the guys how and where to set up and explained what exactly the BBC required of them. He told them that their music was to be part of the broader John Peel show airing on February 15th on BBC 1, and that if they played well, there was little doubt that their four song set would catch the attention of music industry moguls looking to sign a new act to their label.

Nerves and excitement filled the air as the microphones were turned on, the tapes began rolling, and Queen starting strumming out the opening notes of _My Fairy King._ Sam and I looked at each other, smiling proudly over what incredibly talented boyfriends we had. All four of us girls had been told that we had to stay as quiet as church mice while the tapes were rolling, otherwise we’d have to leave the studio. I was keeping to my word and staying perfectly still and quiet, but I was finding it unbearably difficult, as excitement for the guys bubbled up inside of my chest like a fizzy drink that had been swallowed too quickly. 

The guys were on top of their game that day, playing better than I’d seen them play in ages, and they looked incredible to boot. Freddie was wearing his usual satin pants and floral jacket, with his glossy black hair perfectly feathered as always. John looked cute in a black jacket and black pants, with a white satin button-down-the-front shirt that he had unbuttoned a little lower than usual. Roger was his usual rock-god self, with tight flared jeans, a black tank top and his black leather jacket, but Brian… Brian was wearing his snug black velvet bell-bottoms and a skin-tight white long-sleeved shirt that he had recently procured from a stall at Kensington Market that hugged his adorable little man-boobs perfectly and kept inching its way up his body every time he moved, exposing his midriff. His hard nipples, peeking through the thin fabric of the shirt, had me mesmerized, and the more I watched his fingers fly across the fret board of his guitar, the more turned on I became. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t watched Brian play before, I certainly had, but there was just something in his demeanor that day, a pride and confidence perhaps, that made me want to rip the tight white shirt and snug velvet bell-bottoms right off of his body.

“God, is it warm in here?” Sam quietly asked me between songs, as she fanned herself with her hand.

“Um, yeah, it’s definitely warm in here,” I choked out, as I watched Brian bend over to make some adjustments to the settings on his amplifier.

“Thank God! I thought it was just me,” Sam laughed, staring at Roger as he bashed out a few notes across his kit, a cigarette dangling from his lips. She leaned in even closer to me then, and whispered “Is it just me, or are the guys looking hotter than usual today?”

“It’s not just you,” I grinned. “I’m not sure what Brian was thinking when he bought a shirt so small and form-fitting, but if he meant for it to tease the hell out of me, then it’s doing the trick.”

Sam looked around the room covertly, then said, “I wonder if there’s some bathrooms or something nearby…”

My eyes widened as I stared at her in shock and asked, “What are you suggesting??”

“I’m suggesting that if the guys get a break soon, we drag them into the closest bathroom and show them how hot we think they look today,” Sam smirked.

“Dear God, Sam!” I exclaimed as quietly as I could. “No wonder Roger likes you so much!”

“Carrie, our boyfriends are on the verge of rock ‘n’ roll stardom,” Sam stated flatly. “If we don’t keep them entertained, there will be plenty of other girls who will.”

Good Lord, I thought to myself, was she right? I hadn’t actually thought that far ahead yet. I was just so excited about the guys garnering a bit of fame through their stint on the radio that I’d never really thought about what it might lead to. But once I started connecting the dots, I supposed she had a point. The recordings they were doing for the BBC might lead to bigger and better things for the band, and with bigger and better things for the band came more fans, and with more fans came the dreaded word… _groupies._ And as gorgeous as our guys were, I had no doubt that there would be lots of them to go around. I was definitely not prepared for such an eventuality.

“Bathrooms though?” I asked skeptically. “Isn’t that kind of… gross?”

“Well, you do what you like,” Sam smiled. “But as hot as Roger is looking today, I’m not going to be able to wait until we get back to my place.”

I watched as she got up and boldly marched across the studio to peer at Roger over his kit. He leaned forward as she whispered something in his ear, and suddenly his drumsticks were clattering across the top of one of his floor toms as he quickly set them down.

“Um, can we take a short break fellas?” Roger immediately asked. The other three gave him a slightly dumbfounded look, but when the engineer announced through the PA that a short break would be fine, then Brian, Freddie and John just shrugged their acquiescence as Roger grabbed Sam by the hand and led her from the room. I couldn’t help but stare at her completely agog as she passed by me and waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

“Holy shit!” I whispered to myself under my breath as I watched Roger and Sam’s retreating figures heading out the door. “She’s actually going to do it!”

“Actually going to do what?” Brian suddenly asked me. I turned to find Brian staring down at me as he took a sip from the bottle of Coke he’d been given by the producer of the show.

“Um…” I said, swallowing hard. Then I noticed that Brian’s bellybutton was right in front of me exactly at eye level, peeking out temptingly between the hem of his shirt and the waistband of his pants. If Roger and Sam could have a bit of illicit fun in a public place, then why couldn’t we? I thought. I gave Brian a simpering look and said, “You, um, you feel like, I don’t know, taking a break somewhere?”

Brian gave me a slightly confused look and said, “Well, I think we’re going to be recording the next song soon.”

“Yeah, I know, but we wouldn’t have to be gone _that_ long…” I said.

Brian seemed genuinely puzzled, and asked me, “Where do you want to go? You want me to get you a Coke or something?”

I rolled my eyes and said, “No!”

“Then what are you talking about?” Brian demanded.

“Didn’t you notice that Roger and Sam left together?” I asked, motioning my head toward the door.

“Okay,” Brian shrugged, obviously not catching my drift. “Did they go to get her a Coke?”

“Oh sweet Jesus…” I groaned, dropping my head into my hands. Clearly I was going to have to change tactics. I suddenly stood up, grabbed the bottle of Coke out of Brian’s hand and set it on my now empty chair. I reached for his hand and said, “Come with me.”

I led him out through the door and down a drab hallway of plain white walls and grey patterned carpet. Eventually we came across the bathrooms, which consisted of two doors side by side, the ladies room on the left and the men’s room on the right. I thought I heard noise coming from inside the men’s room, but I couldn’t be sure, so I knocked on the door.

“What are you doing?” Brian asked with a scowl.

“Occupied!” Sam’s voice rang out from inside the men’s room.

Brian was completely taken aback and spluttered out, “Wait… Was that? Was that Sam?”

“Are you starting to catch on now?” I asked as I shoved open the door to the ladies room and dragged Brian inside.

“What are you doing??” Brian grinned as I bolted the door shut and checked inside the one and only stall that the bathroom had to offer just to be sure that we were well and truly alone.

“Sam and I were commenting earlier how unbelievably sexy you guys look today, and, well…” I couldn’t help feeling a little flustered being alone in a ladies room with Brian, but nonetheless, I waltzed up to him as seductively as I could, running a finger down the front of his tight white shirt as I looked up at him through lowered lashes.

I was just about to tell him how much he was turning me on, when the sounds of moaning and gasping started coming from the men’s room next door.

“Roger! Oh God, Roger!” we could hear Sam scream.

Brian’s eyes grew round with surprise, as he looked down at me as asked, “What, you and me? Here? Now?”

“I’m up for it if you are,” I smiled, running my hand the rest of the way down his shirt until it came to rest at his crotch, where I felt Brian’s excitement already beginning to build.

“I’m up for it now…” Brian replied in a husky voice. He bent his head low, capturing my mouth in a fiery kiss as we wrapped our arms around each other, groping at each other’s bodies with a sudden and desperate need. We shuffled across the room until Brian had my back pressed against the wall, kissing me until I was left breathless. He looked down at me with desire filled eyes and asked, “And what, may I ask, brought this on all of the sudden?”

“It’s this damn shirt you’re wearing,” I breathed. “The way it clings to your body just makes me want to rip it right off of you.”

“Mm, remind me to wear it more often then,” Brian growled before plunging his tongue back into my mouth.

I ran my hands over the front of his shirt, teasing his hard nipples with my fingertips as I went. I could feel his hard bulge pressed against my stomach, and I ran my left hand lower down the front of his pants, until it was cupped around his cock, stroking and teasing him until he began moaning into my mouth. I undid the button on his pants and pulled down his zipper, reaching inside his tight white undies until I found what I sought. I pushed him away from me slightly, and moved to trade places with him so that his back was against the wall, and I had better access to what was inside his pants.

I kissed my way down the front of his body, pausing only when I reached his open zipper, which I pulled open even further, exposing Brian’s hard cock to my greedy hands and mouth. I decided to tease him a bit first, running my tongue up and down his long shaft before finally taking just the tip into my mouth. I watched as he bit his lip and whimpered slightly, running his fingers through my hair and guiding himself even deeper into my mouth. I reveled in the slightly salty taste of his skin, sucking him harder and harder until I thought he might actually come in my mouth.

Instead, he reached down and lifted me up under my arms in a panicked fashion. He quickly reached for the button and zipper on my pants, pushing both my pants and panties down around my knees, as he bent me over the sink a few feet away, and plunged his hard cock deep inside of me, making me cry out with desire.

“Is this what you wanted baby?” he breathed into my ear, as he bent over the top of me, driving me crazy with every thrust of his hips.

“God yes…” I whimpered, clinging onto the sink for dear life.

Brian mover faster and harder inside of me, gasping and moaning into my ear, turning me on even more with every ragged breath that escaped his body. I could feel my climax coming on fast, and began calling out his name over and over.

“Oh fuck, baby, yes…” Brian groaned, as he thrust hard into me one last time, coming deep inside of me. My entire body shook with pleasure as he kissed and suckled on the back of my neck, his hair brushing against my skin, making me come even harder.

“Oh my God…” I gasped, trying desperately to catch my breath.

I looked up into the mirror above the sink, and saw Brian’s gorgeous hazel eyes sparkling mischievously at me through his thick, dark lashes, as he continued kissing the nape of my neck. We both looked flushed and disheveled and completely and utterly satisfied.

“So, did I surprise you?” I asked between gasps of air.

“You, my darling, continually surprise me,” Brian laughed. “I never know what to expect from you.”

“And that’s a good thing, I hope?” I smiled.

“Can you not tell how happy I am right now?” Brian grinned at my reflection in the mirror.

“Well, just so you know, we may have to put this shirt of yours away and only pull it out on special occasions,” I said, plucking at the skin-tight sleeve covering his arm.

“Are you joking?” Brian teased. “If it gets this kind of a reaction out of you, then I’m never taking it off!”

The two of us realized, as we looked a little more closely at ourselves in the mirror, what an absolute mess we both were. We knew that if we were to go back out into the studio looking the way we did that we’d never hear the end of it. So we cleaned ourselves up as best we could, straightening our hair and clothes until we thought we looked at least somewhat presentable, but really it was no use. The jig was up as soon as we walked back in the room.

“And where have you two been, eh?” Freddie questioned as soon as he caught sight of us. He motioned his head toward Roger and Sam, who were in the same disheveled state that Brian and I were in, and said, “I suppose the two of you had a similar break as these two? I don’t suppose that any of you can keep your trousers on for another twenty minutes or so, so that we can finish recording, can you??”

Brian looked down at his watch thoughtfully and said, “Yeah, I might be able to keep them on for another twenty minutes or so.” He flashed me a quick smile as he bent down to pick up his guitar and went on, “Unless, of course, Carrie decides to attack me again because of my tight shirt.”

I narrowed my eyes at Brian and shook my head while Freddie gave each of us a slightly revolted look and rolled his eyes. 

“Really, darling,” Freddie said to me. “What _do_ you see in this tall, gangly boy?”

He turned to give Brian a quizzical look as he motioned his hand up and down the length of Brian’s body.

“Granted, he does have a big cock I suppose…” Freddie commented airily.

“Okay, that’s enough!” Brian quickly said. “Are we going to record the other two songs or not?”

“We’ve all been waiting on you, darling,” Freddie simpered.

The guys started to warm back up again, as all of us girls resumed our seats. Sam quietly leaned over to me and asked, “Is it true?”

“Is what true?” I asked in return.

“Is Brian, um, well endowed?” she smirked.

“He’s bigger than Roger, I can tell you that,” I laughed.

“Well, aren’t _you_ a lucky girl?” Sam said sarcastically.

“Yeah, I guess I am,” I grinned, wondering why it was exactly that Freddie had been paying such close attention to the size of my boyfriend’s penis in the first place.

We watched the guys continue to record the last of their material, Roger and Sam giving each other knowing looks the entire time, while Brian and I pretty much did the same. After everything that had happened in the bathrooms, it was hard to keep a straight face during their last two songs, and I was pretty sure that it was going to be equally as difficult to keep a straight face when their show played on BBC 1 in ten days time, particularly since I knew that I would have visions in my head of sinks and mirrors and Brian’s hair hanging down around his face while we… Well, let’s just say that I was happy when they were finished recording so that we could go back home to the privacy of our flat.


	64. Chapter 64

The evening of February 15th ended up being absolutely electric, as we all gathered together at Freddie and Mary’s place to sit around the radio and listen to the guys on the John Peel show. All four of us girls squealed and cheered as soon as Queen’s name was mentioned, and we all went completely nuts as soon as the first strains of _My Fairy King_ were heard. The songs that the guys had recorded on the 5th sounded incredible coming out of Freddie’s speakers, and the eight of us kept looking around the room at each other in utter disbelief, unable to completely register the fact that Queen was actually on the radio, and that thousands of people were hearing their music. It was such a surreal feeling, and in that moment, none of us felt like things could get much better.

We were soon proven very wrong, however. Just a couple of short weeks after the John Peel show had aired, Brian received a phone call from Trident saying that the members of Queen needed to gather at the offices of EMI Records for an important meeting the following day. Brian and I could barely sleep that night, wondering what on earth EMI wanted with the band. We both played the whole thing off a little, trying to curb our enthusiasm by telling ourselves that that they probably just wanted to talk with Queen about the possibility of a record contract, but that nothing was liable to be set in stone so suddenly.

When I walked out of school to Brian’s waiting car the afternoon after their meeting, however, and saw Brian’s sparkling eyes as he leaned against the side of his Mini, I knew that it was something big. As soon as I was within reach, Brian scooped me up into his arms and swung me in a circle, my book bag flying off of my shoulder and landing on the ground with a thud.

“We did it!!” he crowed. “We finally did it baby!”

“Did what?” I asked breathlessly as Brian set me back on my feet.

“Queen got a record deal! We signed with EMI today!”

“Oh my God…” I gasped, my hand flying up to cover my open mouth. I began to shake all over with excitement, jumped back into Brian’s arms and screamed, “Oh my _God!!!”_

“Can you believe it??” Brian cried, swinging me around one more time. “Our first record is finally going to be released!”

Tears of joy filled my eyes as Brian set me back down again. I couldn’t contain my glee and shouted out to every passing student within ear’s reach, “Queen got a record deal!! _Queen got a record deal!!”_

A couple of people who vaguely knew me gave me a thumb’s up, but other than that, everybody else just looked at me as though I was insane.

“Our album is only set to be released in the UK and Europe so far, but it’s a start!” Brian said with a laugh.

“So, how are we celebrating??” I asked excitedly.

“In true Queen style, of course,” Brian grinned. “With lots of booze and food at The Kensington tonight!”

The atmosphere at the pub that night was filled with excitement. Drinks were already flowing by the time that Brian and I arrived, and there was no shortage of hugs or accolades to be found. Freddie scooped me up as soon as we walked through the door and swung me around, and when he was done, Roger immediately followed suit. I received a warm hug from John, and Sam, Mary and Veronica each took turns throwing their arms around Brian, before each of us girls finally threw our arms around each other. There were other friends at the pub besides just the eight of us, including John Harris and his girlfriend Mags. Smile’s old keyboardist Chris Smith and their lead singer Tim Staffell were there as well, both of whom I’d heard a lot about but had never met. There was also Freddie’s friend, Alan Mair, from Kensington Market, and a tall good-looking guy with long brown hair and a scruffy beard that was introduced to me by Brian as being 1984’s old drummer, Richard Thompson. I was grateful, as I looked around at our little rag-tag group, that none of Queen’s old girlfriends had deigned to make an appearance.

It seemed that Brian and I were the last to arrive, and were immediately escorted by the group at large to a cluster of three tables that had been pushed together to accommodate our needs. Plates piled with traditional English pub grub filled the tables, including steak and kidney pies, fish and chips, bangers and mash and deep-fried gammon. Bottles of wine had already been opened, and soon a couple of glassfuls were being pressed into my hand and Brian’s.

“To Queen!” Tim Staffell shouted, holding his wine glass aloft. “Who would have never made it if I hadn’t left the band!”

Everyone laughed and held up their glasses, shouting out, “To Queen!”

We spent the majority of the evening laughing and chatting and drinking, with each of us girls sitting possessively on our men’s laps. Stories about the old days with Smile were making the rounds, and I gained some interesting insight into Brian’s life before I met him.

“Oh my God!” Chris Smith laughed. “How many times did we terrify Roger’s poor mother by creeping into her house in the middle of the night and falling asleep on the living room floor without her knowledge?! I’ll never forget the look she would give us every time she walked in the next morning to find teenage bodies sprawled all over her house!”

“Yeah, especially when she would discover her son with a different girl wrapped around him almost every time,” Brian chimed in.

“Oh!” everyone around the table sang out at Roger.

“Hey, I seem to remember you dragging Chrissy down to Cornwall quite often, and my mother finding the two of you in compromising positions once or twice!” Roger railed.

“Oh _ho!”_ everyone sang out again even louder, this time at Brian.

“Yeah, well, at least it was the same girl every time,” Brian argued.

“How about the time we played that massive gig at The Royal Albert Hall?” Tim supplied. “We ran out onstage thinking that we were these huge rock stars because we were on the same bill as Free and Joe Cocker, and my damn guitar lead popped out of the socket as soon as we hit the stage!”

“God, I just remember you hitting the opening chord, and nothing coming out!” Brian laughed.

“See, if you would have had me working for you back then, then none of that would have happened!” John Harris drunkenly crowed from the end of the table.

“We needed somebody working for us, that’s for damn sure!” Roger cried. “We were so naïve back then!”

“What was it they called us in the paper the next day?” Brian grinned.

“The loudest group in the western world!” Roger declared proudly.

“That’s right! They did!” Tim exclaimed.

“That’s because the three of you had no style in those days,” Freddie griped. “Thank God I got ahold of you and turned you into a band worth watching!”

Brian, Roger and Tim barked out laughing, but at the same time, they knew that Freddie was basically right. His boastful arrogance may have been annoying at times, but without his incredible voice and artistic sense, Queen would never have become the cohesive unit that they’d turned into, and everyone knew it.

“Oh, scoff all you want!” Freddie exclaimed with a dismissive wave. “But you know that I’m right. Now who’s ready for some champagne?”

As if we weren’t getting drunk enough off of the wine, Freddie sauntered up to the bar and ordered a couple bottles of the pub’s best champagne, or in the case of The Kensington, their _only_ champagne. He brought the bottles back to the table, peeled away the foil wrapper at the top, and fiddled with the cork until it finally shot across the room with a loud “pop”. We each held up our glasses so that Freddie could pour out the bubbly beverage, and drank yet another toast to Queen, this one given by none other than Freddie himself.

“All joking aside, fellas, this band would be nothing without all four of us,” Freddie said seriously, holding up his glass of champagne. “We all contribute something special to Queen, and if you were to take away any one of us, this band would cease to be successful. To Brian, Roger and John!”

“And Freddie!” Brian called out, holding up his glass as well.

“To Brian, Roger, John and Freddie!” we all sang out.

Just then a group of about five or six young, timid looking girls approached our table with paper napkins from the pub and ballpoint pens clutched in their hands.

“Excuse me,” the leader of the group said shyly. She appeared typically English, with fair skin, long dark blonde hair, thin lips and big innocent looking blue eyes. “Are you fellas from the band Queen?”

“Yes, we are,” Roger said proudly.

“See, I told you,” the girl whispered to one of her friends. She turned back to Roger and smiled brightly, saying, “We were, um, just wondering if we could get your autographs.”

“Certainly,” Roger smiled, his chest instantly puffing up to twice its normal size.

Sam, Mary, Veronica and I were all still sitting on our guys’ laps, and watched with a mixture of pride and irritation as every girl made the rounds around the table, brandishing her napkin and pen at each of the guys in turn as they confessed how much they loved Queen’s music to them. Freddie seemed slightly taken aback over the sudden attention, and John looked highly uncomfortable with the whole thing, but Roger and Brian both seemed pleased as punch.

“We’ve seen you play three times,” a petite red-haired girl said to Brian as he took her napkin from her. She wore a white mini-dress with red trim and her long hair was pulled back into a low ponytail with a matching red ribbon tied around it. She might have been cute had it not been for her obvious embarrassment turning her pale skin the same shade as the bow in her hair.

“Oh yeah?” Brian beamed up at her. “Where at?”

“All at Imperial College,” the girl confessed. “My older sister, Emma, goes to school there. You lot are amazing! We love your music!”

“Aw, well thank you very much,” Brian smiled. “We love meeting our fans. What’s your name?”

“Kelly,” the girl answered, clearly delighted that Brian was being so sweet to her as she bounced up and down on the balls of her feet.

I watched the movement of the pen in Brian’s hand as he scrawled out, “To Kelly With Love” and then quickly scribbled out his name underneath. He handed the girl her napkin and pen when he was done, and the girl was giddy with delight as she moved around the table to hit Freddie up next.

Eventually every girl got her autograph and went on her way, jabbering away and giggling with her fellow girlfriends over their incredible luck.

“Well, that was fun,” Roger said, grinning at each of the guys from ear to ear as he pulled his Marlboros out of his pocket. “That little red-head liked you, Bri.”

“Well, it’s lucky for him then that he’s already got an older and much more attractive girlfriend sitting right here,” I smirked across the table at Roger.

“Jealous?” Roger teased, lighting up his cigarette.

“Of a pack of 15-year-olds? Hardly!” I snorted.

“They weren’t that young, were they?” Brian grinned, turning to look across the room where the girls had gathered near the bar, giggling excitedly as they took turns reading each other’s napkins.

I turned his head to face me instead, and said, “Yes. They were. So stop checking out the jail bait.”

“Don’t worry, they’ll be of age soon enough,” Roger simpered, and was instantly smacked in the back of the head by Sam. Roger grabbed his head, turned to face Sam, and let out a very whiney “Ow!”

Sam just shook her head at him, her lips pressed into a thin line, then looked across the table at me and said indignantly, “Just think, Carrie, this is only the tip of the iceberg. I wonder how many more packs of young girls we’ll get to deal with now that Queen is making it big?”

It wasn’t something that I wanted to contemplate.

The next couple of weeks found the guys riding on the crest of a wave. They had additional meetings with EMI and Trident to iron out all the details of the release of their forthcoming album, and they even discovered that Trident had booked them another gig at the Marquee Club on April 9th, with the intent that they would play for an executive from Elektra Records in the U.S. named Jac Holzman, who was making the trip to London strictly to see them play. If they were able to impress the guy, then not only would they have a record label in Europe, but one in America as well, meaning that their music would go from obscurity to suddenly be heard all around the world in a matter of months. It was a nerve wracking notion for the guys to say the least, and as soon as the details of the concert were given to them, they immediately sat down to discuss what they could improve upon in their live act in order to make up for the last gig that they’d played at the Marquee.

Amongst all the excitement with the band, there was also the small detail of my birthday to consider, along with the one-year anniversary of my relationship with Brian. My 23rd birthday was quickly approaching on March 23rd, and the anniversary of our little trip to Hampshire would take place two days later on the 25th. When I mentioned both events in passing to Brian, he almost seemed as though he’d forgotten about them with all the commotion and excitement he’d been experiencing over Queen’s newfound success. I tried not to feel hurt, knowing that Brian had a lot on his mind where the band was concerned, but still, I couldn’t help but wonder if maybe I was going to start taking a bit of a backseat to Queen now, that perhaps our relationship wouldn’t have the same precedence in his life that it once had. The thought of that actually being the case hurt me more than I cared to admit.

My fears were slightly abated when Brian sat down with me one afternoon in the coffee shop below our flat, and told me that he had made plans for the two of us to go to Bath for my birthday and that we would stay through our anniversary. It wasn’t quite what I’d hoped for I had to admit, since I’d secretly been wishing for close to a year that perhaps we could go back to our little bed and breakfast in Hampshire and have a nice, quiet, romantic couple of days. But, I supposed in the end that Bath would be fun too.

“I’ve got it all worked out,” Brian said excitedly, as we sat across from each other, clutching our cups of coffee and snacking on scones. “I made us reservations at a hotel near the Bath Abbey. It’s walking distance from all the Regency and Georgian era places that you could possibly want to see.”

“Really?” I asked, the trip sounding better and better all the time. “Like what?”

“Well, Jane Austen’s houses, for one thing, since you’ve told me that she and her family lived in Bath for a while,” Brian replied. “And then there’s the Abbey, of course, and the Roman Baths, and I was told by the person running the hotel that something called the Pump Room is nearby as well.”

“The Pump Room?! Are you serious?!” I asked excitedly. “That was where everyone used to go to drink the mineral waters during the Regency era!”

“So I’ve been told,” Brian grinned. “And, I was also told by the hotel’s manger that the hotel is just down the way from a shop called Sally Lunn’s that you’ll probably have heard of.”

“Sally Lunn’s?? _The_ Sally Lunn’s??” I asked.

“Yeah, I was told that it’s a bakery or something,” Brian said before taking a sip of coffee.

“Not just _any_ bakery,” I replied, “but a very _old_ bakery. They’ve been around since the 1600s and they’re famous for their Sally Lunn buns! Jane Austen loved them and went there to buy them all the time!”

“You know, it astounds me sometimes how much you know about that woman’s life,” Brian chuckled.

“It comes of reading too many books I guess,” I shrugged.

“Well, anyway, I thought that it would be something that you’d enjoy for your birthday,” Brian smiled, breaking off a piece of his scone and popping it into his mouth.

“And our anniversary, right?” I asked.

“Oh, of course, and our anniversary,” Brian agreed.

I spent the next several days trying to get all of my ducks in a row before Brian and I went on our trip. I went shopping for some of the things that we needed, including film, batteries, snacks and drinks, and worked steadily on the laundry, trying to get it all caught up before we left. I made arrangements for Roger and Sam to come by while we were gone to feed the cat and check up on things for us, and I made sure that we were completely stocked up on cat food and litter.

I also had homework that had to get done before we left, including the thesis and outline for the last paper that I would be turning in to my professors at the end of the semester. Being inspired by the incredible trip that Brian had planned for us, I decided that my topic would be _The Medicinal Waters of Bath In Regency England – Cure-all? Or A Prescription For Poison?,_ and I figured that I could do a bit of research while I was in the town itself.

I was so excited about seeing the sights in Bath, that the days leading up to the trip seemed to drag by, even though I’d been incredibly busy with school work and preparations for our journey. Brian too had been flitting in and out of the flat on a daily basis, constantly having to attend one business meeting or another or speak with one of the guys over something urgent. It seemed as though we were barely able to see each other, often having time only for a quick chat over dinner before we were off to bed and preparing for the next day. But all of that would change as soon as we went to Bath, I assured myself. We’d have an entire weekend all to ourselves, and things would be just like they had been before the madness of Queen’s big breakthrough had begun.

I was in our bedroom packing up a few of our clothes a couple of days before we were meant to leave, when the phone rang and Brian answered it. I continued packing, and listened in to his end of the conversation from where I stood near our bed.

“Hello? Oh, hi Mum,” he said cheerfully enough. “Um, a bit busy really, but good. Yeah, we’ve been having loads of meetings for the band since we signed our contract. We’re not sure yet, hopefully it will be released soon though. Apparently there’s some sort of a problem with the new label at EMI that might push things back a bit. Carrie? Oh she’s fine. Yeah, we’re getting ready for her birthday trip to Bath.”

Then there was a bit of a pause, and Brian’s tone suddenly changed.

“Oh? Why is that? What? Is she all right? No, of course. Um, when do you need me to take you? Right. Okay. No, no, I’m sure she’ll understand. No, don’t worry about it, Mum. Yeah, we’ll just have to postpone our plans for another time.”

As soon as the words left his lips, my heart sank to my toes. I silently prayed to God that he wasn’t talking about our trip to Bath.

“Okay, Mum. I’ll see you first thing in the morning then. Okay, bye then, bye.”

I heard Brian hang up the phone, and paused in my packing as he wandered into our bedroom with a sober look on his face.

“I’ve got some bad news, I’m afraid,” he said quietly as he sat down on the end of the bed and gently ran a finger over the edge of the suitcase I’d been filling with clothes. “My Aunt Helen, my dad’s sister, is in hospital, and I need to drive my mum up to Leeds tomorrow to go be with her.”

“Oh my God,” I said in a stunned voice. “Is she okay?”

“Um, the doctors aren’t sure yet,” Brian replied. “She collapsed at home, and they’re not sure if it was a heart attack. They’re running tests now.”

“My God, it sounds serious,” I said. “Is this someone that you’ve always been close to?”

“Very close,” Brian answered. “My aunt Helen and her husband, my uncle Will, used to live in Feltham not far from us, so I grew up seeing them quite often, along with my cousins. My uncle Will got transferred to a different job up in Leeds a few years ago, and they’ve been living there ever since.”

“I see,” I said quietly. “Look, I don’t mean to sound callous, but can’t your dad take your mom?”

“He’s already in Leeds,” Brian said. “He left as soon as he got the call this morning. My mum has been getting the house in order, hoping that I would drive her up first thing tomorrow.”

“And our trip to Bath?” I asked.

“I’m really, really sorry,” Brian apologized, the sadness obvious in his eyes as he gazed at me imploringly. “I know how much you were looking forward to this, and I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

I nodded solemnly and said, “Well, what can you do? Your family needs you right now. And we can always go to Bath another time I suppose.”

I knew that this sudden emergency was absolutely no fault of Brian’s, and I truly felt bad for his aunt and his parents, but I couldn’t help but be disappointed over not being able to go on the trip for my birthday. It was an occasion that only came around once a year, after all, and our first ever anniversary was a once in a lifetime moment, and now Brian wouldn’t be around for either of them.

“Well, I guess there’s no point in packing this anymore,” I said, trying to paint on a smile as I motioned toward the suitcase lying on our bed.

“Actually, you may as well leave it out, because I’m going to have to pack up for tomorrow,” Brian said. He got up from the bed and walked over to me, wrapping me up in his arms. “I know you’re disappointed, believe me, so am I, but I _am_ going to make this up to you, I promise. We may not be able to celebrate your birthday or our anniversary on the actual days that they fall on, but we will celebrate them, okay?”

He pulled back slightly and looked down at me, tilting my face up to look at him. I just nodded and said, “Okay.”

I spent the rest of the evening watching with a heavy heart as Brian gathered up his things for his trip the following day.

“So where is Leeds exactly?” I asked him as I sat on the edge of the bed, watching as he walked back and forth between the closet and the open suitcase on the bed, packing up his clothing one garment at a time.

“It’s actually pretty far from here,” Brian replied as he folded up one of his button-down shirts. “Way up in the north of England. About a three-and-a-half hour drive from London, and it will be even farther since I’ve got to drive into Feltham first.”

“Do you know when you’ll be back?” I asked.

“I honestly don’t know,” Brian answered, as he tucked the last of his clothes away into the suitcase, and wandered off in the direction of the bathroom to grab his toothbrush and deodorant. “It all depends on how things are going with my aunt. If she’s doing better by the time my mum and I get up there, then I can probably just leave my mum with my dad and come back home. But if this is something serious, then it could be a few days.”

My heart sank at the thought of him being gone that long. I knew it was selfish of me, but I couldn’t stand the thought of us being apart even for one night, let alone more than that. We’d slept in the same bed every night of our lives for nearly a year. Well, other than the separate beds that we were forced to endure while we stayed with my parents, that was, but still, we’d done everything in our power to get around the problem at the time.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do without you for the next few days,” I said petulantly. “Do you know that this will be the first time that we’ve been apart in nearly a year?”

Brian paused in his packing, looked at me with a sad smile and said, “It will be, won’t it?”

I nodded, trying to hold back the tears for his sake. I didn’t want him to feel worse than he already did.

“Well, let’s hope that I won’t be gone that long,” Brian said. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll get up there and everything will be fine and I can turn right around and come back home.”

“I hope so,” I said. “Not just for our sake, but for your aunt’s as well.”

We spent a restless night together, with Brian tossing and turning, worried that he might oversleep in the morning. The alarm clock went off at seven o’clock sharp, and Brian was already up and running, so I reached over to hit the button for him, trying desperately to silence the God-awful noise that was clanging in my ear.

I got out of bed and wandered into the bathroom where I could hear the water running, and found Brian in nothing but a pair of shorts, bent low over the sink shaving.

“Morning,” he mumbled at my reflection in the mirror as he lifted up the tip of his nose slightly with his forefinger and shaved his upper lip.

“Morning,” I mumbled back, wrapping my arms around his body and kissing his back before leaning my face against his warm skin and deeply inhaling his scent. I was determined to touch him and smell him and taste him as much as possible before he left.

He showered and got dressed, and the two of us sat long enough at the kitchen table to eat a quick bowl of cereal before he hauled his things down to the car, and came back upstairs just long enough to say goodbye.

“I’ll call you as soon as I get there, okay?” Brian said as we stood wrapped up in each other’s arms near the front door.

“Please make sure that you do,” I said. “You know that I’ll be worried sick about you until I hear from you.”

Brian bent his head to kiss me goodbye, and just like that, he was out the door and heading down the stairs. I watched his retreating figure as he turned and waved at me one last time from the bottom of the stairs before going out to his waiting car. I slowly closed the front door and locked it, and then glanced miserably around the quiet, empty flat. It was a Thursday, and I was meant to be getting ready for school, but instead I flopped myself down on the couch, picked up Harold and held him on my lap, and cried as I sat there quietly petting him.


	65. Chapter 65

I spent the rest of Thursday morning wallowing in self-pity. Things improved only moderately when Brian called me around noon just to let me know that he’d gotten up to Leeds safely, then called me again about an hour or so later to give me the status on his aunt’s health. Apparently the prognosis wasn’t good, and it looked as though Brian would have to stay away from home for at least another couple of days.

I woke up the next morning feeling lonely and miserable for my birthday. Brian called first thing in the morning to wish me a happy birthday, and we were able to chat for a little while before his family obligations pulled him away once again. Annie called at some point during the afternoon, and when I told her how depressed I was over Brian not being at home she immediately came over to the flat, made me get dressed, and took me out for a nice lunch at our favorite Chinese restaurant. It was lovely and thoughtful, and I always enjoyed Annie’s company, but it wasn’t the same as having Brian back home.

By Saturday, I’d decided that my biggest problem was that I simply wasn’t keeping myself busy enough. I knew that I couldn’t concentrate on my school work, so instead, I walked down to the corner market, loaded up on cleaning supplies, and trudged back home with the intent of scrubbing down the entire flat. The place was a mess as usual anyway, so I thought I might as well spend my time wisely and do something productive. I scoured the toilet bowl, sink and bathtub until the bathroom was sparkling. I changed the bedding, vacuumed the floors and washed every dish until they were all shiny and clean and put away in their respective cupboards. The piles of books and papers on the coffee table were neatly stacked or put away, the bookshelves were dusted, and I even wiped down the TV and stereo system. The flat had never looked so good, and while the exercise of cleaning it did keep me busy, it still couldn’t alleviate my sadness, and all I was really left with at the end of the day was an aching back and sore arms.

By the time Sunday rolled around, it was obvious to me that I had to change tactics. It was my one-year anniversary with Brian, and I knew that if I didn’t manage to find some way to keep my mind occupied, that I was going to go mad. I decided that I was going to make the day an “all about me” day, and that I would find some of my favorite things to do, and just do them. I started out the day by sitting at the table with Harold and eating a bowl of my favorite cereal, Lucky Charms. After that, I thought I’d put on a bit of music, since music always seemed to cheer me up. I rifled through my record collection and found my Bread album _Baby I’m-a Want You._ It wasn’t something that I got to play very often because Brian didn’t particularly like it, but, since he wasn’t home, I decided that it was the perfect time to dust it off and slap it onto the turntable. The first strains of the song _Mother Freedom_ filled the room as I wandered into the kitchen to whip up a batch of my favorite oatmeal chocolate chip cookies.

I was in the process of digging all of my ingredients out of the cupboards when the title song _Baby I’m-a Want You_ came on. I was singing along with the lyrics, thinking how apropos they were for the way that I felt about Brian being away from home, and found myself starting to feel a little down as unbidden thoughts of our anniversary filled my mind. I shook my head, telling myself to stop thinking of such things, and reached into the cupboard below the counter for my mixing bowl and mixer. I was just starting to measure out the ingredients when the song _Everything I Own_ came on. Again I was singing along, and again, the lyrics started to get to me. _“And I would give everything I own, give up my life, my heart my home. I would give everything I own, just to have you back again. Just to touch you once again.”_ Oh, why in God’s name had I chosen a Bread album?? I asked myself. I was meant to be trying to cheer myself up, not make myself feel worse by listening to sad love songs for God’s sake!

By the time the song _Nobody Like You_ came on, I was a lost cause. I was mixing up my ingredients and crying as I sang out, _“Because you know I know I’ve never known nobody, nobody like you… Nobody to do what you do… And when you’re leavin’ poor me all alone, you got me sittin’ here sufferin’ by my telephone…”_

And then, suddenly, my sad reverie was broken by a knock at the door.

I shut off my mixer and looked down at what I was wearing, which wasn’t much. A t-shirt and panties was hardly proper attire for answering the door in, but I didn’t have time to go in and change, so I decided that I would just open the door a crack to see who was there. I swiped at the tears running down my cheeks and nose with the back of my hand and made my way into the living room. I hid behind the door as best I could, unlatched the bolt, and was shocked to see who was standing there when I looked outside. 

“Roger,” I said, clearly sounding surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“I was just bored,” Roger shrugged with a smile. “So I thought I’d come by and see what you ducks were up to.”

“Oh…” I said, glancing momentarily down at my lack of clothing once again. “Well, Brian’s not actually here. He’s up in Leeds.”

“Leeds?!” Roger exclaimed. “What the hell is he doing up there? And what is that God awful music you’re listening to?”

“It’s Bread,” I answered. “And Brian, um…”

“Have you been crying?” Roger asked me with a scowl etched deeply into his forehead.

Before I could answer, he pushed the door open the rest of the way and came inside.

“What on earth is going on?” he asked me, shutting the door with a quiet click. “I thought you used to tell me that Bread made you cry?”

“Did I?” I asked, wiping at my runny nose. I kind of wished that someone had reminded me of that fact before I’d put the record on, I thought to myself.

Roger walked across the room to my phonograph and lifted the needle off of the record, setting it down onto its cradle before shutting off the power to the stereo.

“Look, I don’t mean to be rude, Rog, but I’m not really in much of a mood for company,” I said, tugging at the hem of my t-shirt to make sure that it was covering me completely. “Nor am I exactly dressed for company.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Roger said with a crooked smile. He instantly turned serious again though, as he went on, “So why is Brian in Leeds? Why are you home alone?”

“His aunt is in the hospital,” I said. “Look, do you mind if I just run in and put some shorts on real quick?”

“Be my guest,” Roger replied, motioning his hand toward my bedroom door.

I quickly scurried past him and shut my bedroom door behind me, as I went to my dresser and pulled out my pair of old P.E. shorts from high school. By the time I made my way back out to the living room Roger was nowhere to be seen, but I could hear noises coming from the kitchen. I wandered through the kitchen doorway and found Roger helping himself to a beer from the fridge.

“So,” he said, pulling open a nearby drawer to procure my bottle opener. “Listening to Bread, crying, and making cookies. Something is definitely wrong.”

“I’m just upset because Brian hasn’t been here for my birthday or for our anniversary,” I confessed.

Roger’s eyebrows shot into the air and he immediately swallowed his mouthful of beer.

“Brian didn’t do anything for you for your birthday?!” Roger exclaimed.

“Well, we had planned on going to Bath, but his mom called and said that she needed him to take her up to Leeds, so we couldn’t go,” I explained. “We were going to stay there not only for my birthday, but for our anniversary as well.”

“Anniversary… Anniversary…” Roger mumbled, scratching his chin thoughtfully as he thought back to the previous year. “Ah, yes. Let me guess, your little tryst in Hampshire?”

I nodded a little sheepishly in reply.

“Blimey! Has it been a year already since you cheated on me?” Roger asked with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“A year ago today, in fact,” I answered, feeling a little awkward discussing the whole thing so casually with him.

“How long has Brian been gone?” Roger asked.

“Since Thursday morning,” I replied.

“And what have you been doing this whole time then?”

“Cleaning. Crying. Baking cookies,” I said miserably.

“Lord, this is worse than I thought,” Roger said, setting his beer down on the counter. “We’ve got to get you out of here for a bit.”

“Get me out of here?” I questioned. “I can’t go anywhere. Brian might call.”

“And if you’re not here when he calls, then he can call you back,” Roger said.

“Where would we go?” I asked. “And where’s Sam at anyway?”

“Up visiting her parents in Suffolk,” Roger answered. “So you see, I have the entire afternoon free.”

“Look, I know you’re just trying to be nice Rog, but I don’t really feel like going anywhere,” I said.

“Too bad, cause I’m not taking no for an answer,” Roger said adamantly. “It’s obvious that you’ve been doing nothing but wallowing around in self-pity for days, so go in and get dressed. The fresh air will do you good.”

“But I’m making cookies!” I argued. “I don’t want to waste my cookie dough!”

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” Roger griped. “Can’t you put it in the fridge or something?”

“I suppose I could…” I said with hesitation. “But I don’t want to be gone very long! Brian really might call soon, and I don’t want to be gone when he does.”

“Fine, fine!” Roger relented. “Put your cookie dough away and go get dressed then. And bring your camera. I know how much you like to take pictures. Maybe you can find something interesting to photograph and it will take your mind off of things.”

“Fine,” I acquiesced. I pulled the box of foil out of my kitchen drawer, tore off a sheet and wrapped up my cookie dough, placing it in the fridge. I tossed my measuring cups and spoons in the sink, and went in to find something to wear while Roger sat on the couch in front of the TV.

I had absolutely no idea where he was taking me, therefore I had absolutely no idea what to wear, but I figured we probably wouldn’t be going far, just around London more than likely. I decided that I might as well be comfortable, and put on a pair of jeans, my sneakers, a long-sleeved t-shirt and a zip-up hooded sweatshirt. I combed my hair, pulled it back in a ponytail, put on only a little bit of make-up, and determined that I was ready. I remembered Roger mentioning my camera, so I went to the closet and dug that out too, stuffing a spare roll of film into my purse just in case.

“Okay, I’m ready,” I said, adjusting the leather case on my camera as I walked out of my bedroom door.

“Excellent,” Roger grinned, turning off the TV with the remote. “Let’s go then.”

“So where _are_ we going?” I asked, locking the front door once we were out of the flat.

“I don’t know,” Roger shrugged. “Let’s just see where the road takes us.”

I wasn’t quite sure that I liked the sound of that, as Roger bounded down the stairs just ahead of me. The roads could take us anywhere for God’s sake! I hoped that he didn’t have any funny business on his mind. It had been a long time since Roger had tried to make a move on me, and now that he had Sam in his life, I didn’t think that it was likely, but still, with Roger you never knew. Despite my worries, I had to admit that it did feel good to be out in the fresh air and away from my stuffy flat, and Roger always was fun to hang around with. He was funny and lively, and I supposed that if there was anyone who could help take my mind off of things, then Roger was probably the guy.

We climbed into his Triumph and sped off down the road, driving around parts of London that I wasn’t completely familiar with. We drove through Knightsbridge and Hammersmith, crossed over the Thames a couple of times, and soon we were coming up on Twickenham and the outskirts of London.

“Let’s take the M3 and see where it leads us,” Roger said jovially, turning onto one of England’s largest motorways. I knew that I’d been on the M3 before, but with my terrible sense of direction, I couldn’t remember exactly where it would lead us, so I simply nodded my assent and leaned back in my seat to enjoy the ride.

The skies were cloudy that day, but the English countryside still looked lovely as we zoomed down the highway, heading in the direction of what I thought was probably Surrey. I chided myself for not knowing England better after living in the country for over a year, and told myself that I was going to pick up a map of the UK one day soon and study it in the hopes that I might not get quite so lost in the future. I saw signs for places like Camberley and Frimley as we drove along, but I still had no idea where we really were. I did notice that Roger jig-jogged from the M3 to the A331 and then on to the A31, but still, nothing looked familiar.

“So how much farther are we going to go before we turn back?” I asked.

“Why? Aren’t you having a good time?” Roger asked in return.

“It’s not that,” I said. “I’m just worried about Brian calling.”

“My God, you two really are joined at the hip, aren’t you?” Roger teased.

“We love each other, Roger, what do you expect?” I said. “If he calls and I’m not home, then he might worry.”

“I think you’ll both be just fine,” Roger sighed. “But I tell you what, let’s drive on for a bit, see if we can find an old castle or manor house or something that you might like, then we can stop for a bit and you can take some pictures. After that, we’ll get back on the road and head back to London. Sound like a plan?”

“Yeah, I guess that would be okay,” I shrugged. “Are there any castles or old houses out this way?”

“Um, yeah, I think there might be up ahead a little way,” Roger said.

We followed the A31 for a little while longer with very little to see other than the occasional pub dotting the landscape. The area was mostly farmland and I found it hard to believe that we were going to come across anything of interest at all quite frankly. Nevertheless, Roger jig-jogged around a bit more, leaving the A31 in favor of smaller country lanes, so I figured that he knew of someplace up ahead that he wanted to show me. Instead, his car started sounding a little odd all of the sudden, as if the engine was revving faster than usual. I watched as Roger reached for the gearshift with a scowl, changing gears with a worried look, as his car made horrible grinding noises.

“What the hell?” Roger mumbled, as he pulled off of the road next to a field, where the car spluttered and shook a bit before finally dying all together. Roger turned the key in a panic, but the engine seemed determined not to turn over. He hit the steering wheel with the palms of his hands and said, “Shit!”

“What’s wrong?” I asked. “What’s happening with your car?”

“I don’t know,” Roger said, shaking his head irritably. He reached down to pull the hood latch and then reached for his door handle. “Let me go check under the bonnet and see if I can figure out what’s wrong.”

I felt a sense of panic wash over me as I looked through the car windows at our surroundings. There was absolutely nothing around us for miles it seemed. I wasn’t sure whether or not Roger actually knew anything about fixing cars, but I prayed that he did, otherwise I was worried that we were going to find ourselves stranded.

I watched as Roger poked and prodded around a bit under the hood, looking at wires, pulling out dipsticks to check fluid levels, fiddling with the battery to make sure that all the connections seemed to be okay, but the look on his face as he shut the hood didn’t bode well. He walked over to the driver’s side, opened the car door and got back inside.

“Well?” I asked.

“I can’t figure out for the life of me what’s wrong,” Roger said solemnly.

“Could it be that we’re out of gas?” I asked.

“No, I just filled the tank up this morning,” Roger replied.

I wracked my brain, trying to think of anything else that might possibly go wrong with a car.

“Oil?” I asked. “Or maybe the battery?”

“Both fine,” Roger answered. “I’ve got a bad feeling that it’s something in the transmission.”

“The transmission?!” I cried. “But that’s serious! We’d have to call for a tow truck or something!”

“Which is exactly why we’re going to have to do a bit of walking to see if I can find a phone,” Roger said in a calm voice.

“But there’s nothing around here!” I exclaimed. “We’re in the middle of nowhere!”

“There’s bound to be something if we just start walking,” Roger said. He looked at me and smiled and said, “Don’t worry, I’m not going to let you die.”

“It’s not dying that I’m worried about,” I sulked.

“Are you still worried about missing a call from Brian?” Roger laughed.

“Yes!” I said vehemently. “And it sure as hell isn’t going to look good when he finds out that I went off into the country with you, and that your car broke down leaving us stranded!”

“We’re going to be fine!” Roger reassured me.

We gathered up our things and left his car behind as we starting walking down the road in the same direction that we’d already been heading. Roger pulled his pack of Marlboros out of his pocket and lit one before glancing my way.

“I didn’t mean for something like this to happen, you know, I swear,” Roger began.

I just nodded silently.

“Look, I know you’re pissed off about this, but at least you’re out doing something!” he said defensively. “Would you rather be at home wallowing in self-pity?”

The words struck me as odd, and I instantly thought back to a time exactly one year before when Brian had said almost the same thing to me when I’d been heartbroken over Roger. I’d been hoping to receive a phone call from the man I loved that day too. How bizarre was it that I was out in the country with Roger feeling depressed over Brian, when a year before I’d been out in the country with Brian feeling depressed over Roger? It was like déjà vu. Even the area that Roger and I had broken down in almost reminded me of the area where Brian and I had done our stargazing that night. Nothing but farmland and empty fields as far as the eye could see. My heart sank when I thought about Brian being in Leeds and the fact that we couldn’t share such a special day together. We should have been in Bath holding hands and drinking wine and reminiscing over visiting Jane Austen’s house and stargazing and making love for the first time at our little bed and breakfast. Instead, I was with Roger, freezing my ass off as we walked down a deserted country lane in the middle of nowhere, hoping that we could somehow find a way to get back to London. How many more lemons could life really throw at me? I wondered.

We continued down the lane for about a mile or so, when what looked to be a large farmhouse appeared up ahead on our left. My heart sprouted wings! Hopefully whoever lived there would have a phone and we would be able to call for some help.

It wasn’t until we got closer to the building, however, that I felt the color start to drain from my face.

“What are we doing here?” I asked in a panicked voice, as I froze in front of the two-story building.

“What are you talking about?” Roger scowled as he too stopped walking.

“This building,” I said. “This is the bed and breakfast where…”

“Where…?” Roger prompted, looking from me to the building and back again. Then it was as if a light bulb went off in his head. “Wait. Are you telling me that this is where you and Brian…”

“Are we in Hampshire?” I suddenly blurted out.

“Yes, we’re in Hampshire,” Roger smirked. “Didn’t you know?”

“All I saw were street signs and city signs, but I didn’t know what _county_ we were in!” I protested.

Roger continued to smirk at me, as he shoved his hands into his pockets and bounced on the balls of his feet. He looked back toward the bed and breakfast and asked, “So this is the place, eh? This is the place where I lost my girlfriend.”

“How did you know?” I demanded. “Why would you bring me here?”

“How could I possibly know?” Roger answered. “I never knew what part of Hampshire you and Brian were in that night. There’s bed and breakfast’s all over this bloody county, how could I possibly know which one the two of you ended up at?”

There was no way that it was just a coincidence though, and I knew it! I might have been a dizzy, naïve blonde at times, but I knew when I smelled a rat, and Roger was definitely up to something.

“Anyway,” he went on, seeming completely unfazed, “regardless of whether or not this was the place where you and Brian had your naughty little roll in the hay, we still need to use a phone, so we’d better go inside.”

I stared at him skeptically, afraid of whatever it was that had enticed him to bring me to the scene of my crime against him a year before. Surely he wasn’t still holding some kind of a grudge against me so many months later, was he? Roger and I had always been good friends, after all. Why would he take me to such a place?

Despite my reservations, however, I followed him through the front door of the establishment, the familiar sights, sounds and smells washing over me the instant we walked in. I could still picture Brian’s face as he waited impatiently for the little old lady that ran the place to come out and help us get checked in. I could still hear his voice as he assured the lady that we were without a doubt a married couple, and that therefore, there was no reason why we couldn’t share a room. Even the sound of the pen scratching against the registration book, as Brian signed us in as Mr. and Mrs. May, still echoed in my mind. I couldn’t help but smile over the happy memories, and while I’d always hoped that I might see the inside of the place again, I never thought that it would happen quite like this.

Roger shut the door behind us and looked around impatiently.

“Looks like no one is here,” he scowled.

“There’s a little old lady that runs the place,” I said. “Sometimes it takes her a while to realize that she has guests.”

“Well, you would know, I suppose,” Roger smirked.

We stood around for a couple minutes longer, waiting for someone to acknowledge our presence, and when no one did, Roger suddenly spoke so loudly that I nearly jumped out of my skin.

“Well, if no one is down here, then maybe they’re upstairs,” he said impatiently.

Before I could say anything in response, Roger was already bounding up the old wooden staircase to the second floor.

“No, Roger, wait!” I said, following behind him. “The phone is somewhere downstairs! Let’s just go look for it!”

Roger wasn’t listening, however, and when he made it all the way up to the second story, my breath caught in my throat, as he reached for the knob of the door to the very room that Brian and I had stayed in.

He opened it wide, but instead of going inside, he stood just outside the door, grinning at me mischievously.

“Well,” he smiled at me. “Don’t you want to go in?”

I felt like I was living in a very bad episode of the _Twilight Zone,_ and just stared at Roger for a moment, trying to figure out what he was up to. He had an odd look on his face, I thought, a bit like the cat that swallowed the canary. He didn’t move, he didn’t say anything more. He just stood there smiling, waiting for me to approach. 

No one was coming out of the room that Brian and I had shared, and from what I could see of the entryway inside, it looked relatively dark and quiet within. Regardless of how strange it seemed that Roger and I were at the very bed and breakfast where Brian and I had stayed, and even stranger that we were standing on the threshold of the room that we’d actually stayed in, I did trust Roger, and therefore very slowly walked toward the room, watching Roger’s unwavering expression as I approached.

When I peered through the doorway, my heart seemed to stop beating. There were red rose petals scattered across the floor, and although it was still daylight outside, the majority of the light filling the room came from the dozens of lit candles that graced the various surfaces around the tiny room. Standing at the end of the path of rose petals was Brian, dressed in a shirt and tie and his black velvet coat, looking at me with a very nervous smile. I stood frozen in the doorway, wondering how on earth he could be standing there, when he was supposed to be in Leeds.

“Well?” Roger whispered in my ear. “Are you just going to leave the poor man standing there all day?”

I glanced back at Roger and swallowed hard, slowly making my way into the room.

“God how I’ve missed you,” Brian breathed as he reached out to take my hands. I could feel that he was trembling, and still couldn’t seem to wrap my brain around what exactly was happening. I stared at him, my mouth open slightly, a million questions racing through my mind, as Brian smiled at me nervously and said, “You look amazing.”

I looked down momentarily at my sweatshirt and jeans, and decided that I looked far from amazing, but I wasn’t about to argue with the man. Brian looked down at our hands joined together, took a deep breath, and then looked back up at me with love and fear and excitement all mingled together in his eyes.

“I know that you thought that I was in Leeds,” he began quietly, “and I know that you sort of thought that I forgot your birthday and our anniversary, but I can tell you now that nothing is further from the truth. You are the most important thing in my life, and I would never forget such important days. I have loved you since the first moment I saw you. I knew from the second that our eyes met that you were the one. All I’ve been able to think about this entire last year is how I could make our anniversary special, how I could make this moment perfect. So I plotted and planned, and came up with a ridiculous family emergency so that I could be here waiting for you in the very spot where it all first began for us one year ago today.”

Brian smiled and laughed a nervous little laugh over the shocked expression on my face.

“I can still remember signing us in as Mr. and Mrs. May downstairs that night,” Brian went on. “And although you and I have called each other Mr. and Mrs. May ever since, I’d like it to be official now.”

Brian reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a small velvet box, and got down on one knee looking up at me imploringly.

“Carrie Lynn Martin, will you marry me?” he asked as he popped open the lid of the box.

I gasped as I spied a golden ring nestled inside.

“Yes!” I exclaimed, once I found my voice. “Yes, of course I’ll marry you!”

Brian placed the ring on my trembling finger, and stood up from his crouched position, scooping me up in his arms and holding me tight, as we both began to cry.


	66. Chapter 66

“Yes!” I heard Roger exclaim, as Brian and I kissed each other passionately.

I turned to look at him and said, “Were you in on this whole thing??”

“Not just him darling!” Freddie said as the bathroom door flew open with not just Freddie coming out, but Mary, Veronica and Sam as well. “We were all in on it!”

“You’re _all_ here?!” I cried.

“Well, you didn’t think the poor boy could go through this alone, did you?” Freddie grinned. “He’s been a wreck for days! You should have seen him!”

I looked at everyone’s smiling faces, now gazing at me expectantly, and it seemed as though we were one person short.

“Where’s John?” I asked.

“Oh, I’m here!” a voice suddenly rang out behind me. I turned and saw John peeking out from behind the curtains covering the room’s one and only window, holding what appeared to be a small super 8 movie camera.

“Did you get it darling?” Freddie asked him enthusiastically. “Did you get her reaction?”

“Yes, but, do you think we could turn the lights on now?” John asked. “It’s tricky for me to film in candle light. The flames are making it difficult to focus properly.”

It was immediately agreed upon that the lights would be turned back on as John emerged from behind the curtains.

I looked around the room at everyone, still completely in shock, and said, “I can’t believe you were all in on this!” I turned to Brian and shoved him lightly in the chest and added, “And I can’t believe you lied to me about being in Leeds!! Do you even _have_ an aunt named Helen??”

“Yes,” Brian laughed. “I swear to you, I _do_ have an Aunt Helen and an Uncle Will who live in Leeds. I just had to come up with some way of keeping you in the dark as to what my plans were!”

“Well you certainly succeeded in that!” I cried. “I’ve been going crazy since you left home! How long have you been here?”

“Since yesterday,” Brian confessed. “I spent Thursday and Friday at my mum and dad’s, making sure that everything was in place and ready to go.”

“You were only as far away as Feltham all day Thursday and Friday while I was at home all alone and crying??” I wailed, my hands resting irritably on my hips.

“Yeah, you should have seen her when I got there, mate,” Roger supplied. “She was baking cookies and listening to Bread.”

“Things were _that_ bad??” Brian asked with a shocked expression. He wrapped me up in his arms and said, “I’m so sorry I had to deceive you baby. But the end result was worth it? Wasn’t it?”

“I guess so,” I teased.

“Can I stop filming now?” John asked. “My arm is getting a slight cramp.”

“Yes, darling, you can stop now,” Freddie said.

“So, let’s take a look at that ring, shall we??” Sam said, closing the short distance between us and reaching for my left hand.

“Yeah, my God, I haven’t really gotten to look at it yet myself!” I exclaimed, as I held my hand out in front of me. Suddenly everyone was gathered around me, gazing down at the ring that Brian had so lovingly placed on my finger.

As I studied the ring more closely, I knew instantly that it was an antique. It had a thin band made of yellow gold with a cluster of jewels in the center consisting of a small oval diamond and tiny white pearls surrounding the diamond. On either side of the center cluster was another, smaller, cluster of three pearls each, along with a bit of filigree work to add decoration. It was delicate and unique and exactly the kind of ring that I’d always dreamed of.

“There’s a bit of a story that goes along with the ring,” Brian said. “It actually belonged to my great grandmother, Charlotte, on my dad’s side, and its been passed down through the generations of my family ever since. It was given to my great grandmother sometime in the 1880s we think, but my mum reckons that the ring goes back even further than that, possibly to the early Victorian era, or maybe even the Regency era. Now, I know it’s nothing modern or really expensive…”

“Are you kidding me?!” I cried. “It’s perfect! Absolutely perfect!”

“I have to admit, it reminded me of you when my mum first showed it to me,” Brian smiled.

“I can’t believe that it’s been in your family for all these years, and now you’re giving it to me,” I said to Brian.

“I told you, you’re the one,” Brian grinned. “If its going to stay in my family and be passed down to future generations, then it’s got to go to the girl that I plan to spend the rest of my life with.”

“Oh my God, I need a tissue!” Freddie suddenly exclaimed, heading off in the direction of the bathroom in a flurry of flailing hands. Sam, Veronica and Mary were all wiping their eyes by that point as well, and even Roger, I noticed, seemed a little misty eyed.

We were all still studying the ring, when a small voice from the doorway asked, “Did she say yes, dear?”

I turned to see the little old lady that ran the bed & breakfast, still looking exactly as I remembered her, standing in the doorway with a hopeful smile on her face.

“Yes, ma’am, she did,” Brian grinned, wrapping a protective arm around my shoulders.

“Oh, well, I’m very happy for you both,” the lady said.

“Thank you for putting up with all of our commotion,” Brian told her sincerely.

“It’s perfectly fine, dear,” the lady replied with a dismissive wave. “I’ll just be downstairs if you need me.”

She turned to leave, and Freddie came wandering back out of the bathroom swiping at his nose with a wadded up bit of toilet paper, as he asked, “So where are we going to celebrate, darlings?”

“I was thinking perhaps The Crown?” Brian replied, giving me a knowing smile.

“Our pub that we went to!” I exclaimed. “You remembered!”

“Of course I remembered, sweetheart,” Brian chuckled. “I remember everything from that day.”

“But I’m not really dressed for going out anywhere,” I said, looking down at my sweatshirt and jeans.

“Don’t worry,” Brian said, dropping a quick kiss on the top of my head. “I planned ahead, and packed a few of your clothes without you knowing.”

“When did you do that?!” I exclaimed, looking up at him with shocked expression.

“The morning that I left while you were still sleeping,” Brian said smugly.

“I can’t believe how sneaky you are!” I laughed.

“I prefer the term cleverly deceptive,” Brian smirked.

“We’ll just wait for the two of you downstairs,” Freddie said, as he ushered everyone from the room besides Brian and me. It was then that I noticed our suitcase propped up against the wall in the corner of the room.

“So, what did you pack for me?” I grinned at Brian.

“Let’s see…” Brian said, hauling the heavy suitcase up onto the bed where he flicked open the latches and peeled back the lid. He rifled through the neatly folded clothes within, plucking out a stack of things that looked very familiar to me as he continued on, “I packed a pair of your jeans, one of your jumpers, your boots, and some spare socks and knickers. I figured they were items that you wouldn’t readily miss.”

I just looked at him and shook my head in disbelief.

“I didn’t pack anything for you to sleep in, because, I didn’t figure you’d need anything,” Brian added, folding me up in his arms as he waggled his eyebrows at me suggestively.

“So we’re spending the night?” I asked, curling my fingers around his neck.

“Of course,” Brian said. “We all are.”

“What? Freddie and Roger and everyone else too??” I asked.

“In separate rooms, of course,” Brian hastily added. “But yeah, we’ve got the whole place booked for the night!”

“Wow! And the lady that runs this place is allowing such a thing?” I asked.

“Well, we did have to tell her a little white lie,” Brian grinned mischievously. “She’s under the impression that our room will be shared by you and Sam, that Mary and Veronica will share another, and that the fellas and I will take the last two rooms.”

I laughed and shook my head and told Brian, “Well, I guess what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

I changed my clothes, peeling away my slobby-looking sweatshirt and sneakers in favor of my much nicer looking sweater and boots. I was wishing that I had more make-up with me, since I hadn’t put very much on before Roger and I left the flat, but I dug around in my purse a bit and found what I could, putting on a little face powder and lipstick in the bathroom mirror.

We headed downstairs and found Freddie standing in the entryway near the front door, looking stiff and uncomfortable as the little old lady that ran the place questioned him about his clothing.

“Is that what young people are wearing in London these days?” she asked him, as she gingerly reached out and touched the sleeve of his floral jacket.

“No, only Freddie ma’am,” Brian teased, as he gave his friend an impish grin.

“Be thankful that he’s not wearing his Three Musketeers hat with the bright red ostrich plume,” I added with a smirk.

“Three Musketeers hat?” the lady exclaimed, looking at me as if I were insane. “Lord! The strange things you young people do these days!”

I had to stifle a laugh as Freddie sneered at me behind the lady’s back. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the bed and breakfast’s one and only telephone sitting on a small table down the narrow hall that ran toward the back of the house beside the staircase, and a sudden thought occurred to me.

“Oh, before we go,” I said to Brian, “do you think I might be able to call my mom and tell her what’s happened?”

Brian looked to the little old lady and asked, “Would it be possible to make a call to the United States, ma’am?”

“Yes, but I’ll have to charge you extra for it dear,” the lady answered.

“That’s perfectly fine,” Brian replied. He smiled down at me and said, “I think my fiancé would like to give her mother the good news of our engagement.”

Just the mere sound of the word “fiancé” made my heart feel like it might burst with joy at any moment. I waltzed to the phone with a renewed spring in my step, and dialed the myriad of numbers that it took to reach the States. I knew that it was still very early in the morning in California and that my parents were more than likely asleep, but I didn’t care. My news was just too big to wait until later that day.

“Mom?” I asked, grinning from ear to ear, as the sound of my mom’s familiar voice rang out on the other end of the phone. I had an audience of both Brian and Freddie watching me, and soon, Roger and Sam made their way over as well to see what was going on. “You’ll never guess what just happened,” I went on excitedly as I gazed down at my engagement ring. “Brian just asked me to marry him! Yes! Can you believe it? Oh, I’m _so_ happy! Can’t you tell?? Um, I don’t know when we’re actually going to get married. We haven’t had a chance to talk about it yet. No, I don’t know where we’ll get married either. Yeah, I know you don’t really like to travel, Mom. Well, Brian and I will have to talk about it and see what we can come up with. Yeah, he’s right here. Want to talk to him? Okay, hang on…”

I passed the receiver to Brian and said, “Here, my mom wants to talk to you.”

He took the phone a little hesitantly, but still continued to smile good-naturedly, as he asked, “Hi, Sylvia?” He laughed his nervous little laugh and went on, “Yes, we’re engaged. I hope you won’t mind me taking her off your hands. Oh, I see. She’s my problem now, is she? Yes, I suppose that’s okay. Yes, my parents do know about it and they’re very happy for us. No, we don’t have a date in mind yet, but you’ll be the first to know as soon as we decide. Yes, I’m afraid you’re going to have to put up with me as a son-in-law now. Well, I’m going to be happy to be part of your family. Oh, thank you, that means a lot. Yes, she’s still right here, shall I pass the phone back to her now? Okay, you too. Tell Chuck hi for me. Right, here’s Carrie.”

“All right, Mom,” I said, taking the phone back from Brian. “I’ve got to go. We’re going to go to a pub and celebrate our engagement. Okay, I’ll take some pictures and send them to you. I will. I love you too, Mom. Okay, talk to you later, bye!”

I hung up the phone and remembered that I’d left my camera upstairs in the room.

“I forgot my camera and my mom wants pictures!” I told Brian with a laugh. He dug around in his pants pocket for the large old-fashioned key that opened the door to our room and handed it to me. “Be right back!” I said before dashing off.

When I came back down everyone was waiting for me just outside the front door.

“Can we go now?” Roger griped. “I’m starving after all the excitement and having to walk a bloody mile to get here!”

“Yeah, you and I are going to have to have a little talk about that once we get to the pub,” I said, popping off the lens cap of my camera. “But first, I need someone to take some pictures of Brian and me posing in front of the bed & breakfast.”

I handed Roger my camera, and Brian and I stood near the front steps of the house with our arms wrapped around each other as Roger clicked off a few frames. He then took a couple of close-ups of us, with me holding up my left hand in an attempt to display my ring, and he even took a shot or two of just the ring itself.

Once we had plenty of pictures, it was just a short walk down the street to The Crown. The place was exactly how I remembered it, with its whitewashed walls, fireplaces at each end of the room, and battered old wooden tables and chairs. I even remembered exactly where Brian and I had sat to eat our fish and chips the year before, and pointed out the very table on the right hand side of the room.

“That’s right,” Brian agreed. “It was just over here near the front window by the fireplace, wasn’t it?”

“Well, let’s see if we can move another table next to it so that there’s room for everyone,” Roger suggested.

We asked the bartender if that would be okay, and shifted the tables around a bit to meet our needs. Brian and I sat across from each other in the very chairs we’d sat in a year before, right in front of the small corner window, and smiled at one another as we reached across the table to hold hands.

“So, how’s the food at this place?” Roger asked, planting himself in the chair next to me.

“Well, we know the fish and chips are good,” I laughed.

“And the beer,” Brian added.

Everyone found a seat, and soon the bartender was heading down to the end of the bar closest to our table in order to take our drink requests. Freddie insisted that such a monumental occasion required champagne, and since Brian and I neither one offered any refusal, then two bottles of the establishment’s best champagne were immediately ordered.

“So, since I’m the newcomer to this little group, I haven’t really heard the whole story about what happened between you two a year ago,” Sam said, settling in next to Roger. “So walk me through it. What’s the significance of this place?”

“Do you want to tell the story, or should I?” Brian grinned at me from across the table.

“Why don’t you go ahead,” I said.

“This was where we had lunch after I’d taken Carrie to Jane Austen’s house in nearby Chawton,” Brian explained.

“And what made you decide to take Carrie to Jane Austen’s house?” Sam went on. She looked past Roger toward me and smirked with a mischievous gleam in her eyes as she said, “I mean, other than the obvious fact that she’s obsessed with the woman.”

“She’d had a pretty rough night the night before,” Brian said, clearly avoiding Roger’s eyes. “So I thought I’d take her someplace that might make her happy.”

“I’ve always been curious myself,” I chimed in. “Was taking me to Jane’s house a spur of the moment thing, or had you thought about it ahead of time?”

“When I mentioned to my mum one time that you liked Jane Austen, she told me about her cottage here in Hampshire,” Brian replied. “And I just knew that someday I had to bring you here.”

“When did you tell her about me liking Jane Austen?” I asked with a smile.

“Mm, not long after we met,” Brian admitted. “Maybe a week or two.”

“So while she and I were practically living together, you were plotting to take her to Jane Austen’s house?” Roger asked Brian with a slightly contemptuous look.

“You should be thankful,” Sam reminded Roger with an elbow to the ribs. “If you and Carrie were still together, then you and I might not have met.”

Roger’s expression softened and he reached for Sam’s hand. “Yes, I suppose you’re right darling.” He looked to Brian and said, “Thanks” with only a slightly bitter edge to his voice.

“Look, the truth of the matter is, I really didn’t think that things would turn out the way they did that day,” Brian said. “My intentions were truly honorable. I thought that I would take Carrie to Jane Austen’s house, and maybe we’d stop for a bit of lunch, and that would be it. But, then we went for a walk and started talking…”

“And ended up stargazing in a field…” I grinned.

“And then wound up having mad passionate sex in the hotel room we were all just standing in,” Roger said, rolling his eyes skyward. “Yes, we know, we know…”

“Well, I for one have always thought it was romantic,” Veronica suddenly piped up.

Every eye suddenly swiveled in her direction, as John asked her, “You did?”

“Yes,” Veronica said timidly. She turned to John and added, “I mean, when was the last time you took me somewhere lovely like that?”

“Well, um, I mean…” John stammered. “I am saving up for a car. As soon as I’m able to buy one, then I’ll take you wherever you want to go. Okay?”

This seemed to appease Veronica at least a little, and soon our bottles of champagne were arriving along with eight wine glasses.

“Sorry,” the bartender apologized as he set everything on the table. “Don’t ‘ave any champagne glasses I’m afraid. Just wine glasses. Will that be all right with ya?”

“That’ll be just fine,” Brian assured him.

Freddie popped the cork on one of the bottles and poured out a small amount into every glass. He raised his into the air and said, “To Brian and Carrie. May you have the most fabulous wedding ever and a million and one curly haired babies!”

Everyone laughed and raised their glasses, echoing Freddie’s sentiments of “To Brian and Carrie!”

“Aw, thanks you guys,” I said as we all took turns clinking our glasses and taking our first sips. “Speaking of having a fabulous wedding,” I added, looking across the table at Brian, “When and where are we going to get married?”

“Well,” Brian said thoughtfully. “Since you’ve still got to go back to America for a bit, I suppose it will have to be after you come back to England.”

“So, we’re getting married here?” I asked. “My mother would never forgive me if she wasn’t at my wedding, and she doesn’t like to travel.”

“I’m pretty sure my parents would never forgive me either if they couldn’t attend the wedding of their one and only child,” Brian added. “But there’s no way that my family would have the money to go all the way to America.”

“This is going to be tricky, isn’t it?” I asked with a slight frown.

“We’ll get it figured out, don’t worry,” Brian said reassuringly, as he reached across the table to squeeze my hand.

“I say you both just elope and have done with it. Screw all of your parents and do what you like.” Freddie said before making a show of drinking down the last of his champagne.

“Ha! Easier said than done,” I replied.

“Agreed,” Brian nodded. He took a sip of his champagne and looked across the table toward Roger before saying, “So, Rog. When do we need to go rescue your car?”

“That’s right!” I exclaimed, turning slightly in my chair to face Roger. “How was it that your car just conveniently broke down only a mile or so from the bed and breakfast??”

“I happen to be a fantastic actor,” Roger preened. “Had you completely fooled, didn’t I?”

“So, your car is perfectly fine?” I asked. “Why was it making all those noises, and jerking around?”

“Just me playing with the clutch and grinding the gearshift,” Roger smirked. “The old ‘broken-down-car’ routine has come in handy once or twice on dates when I wanted to get a girl alone.”

I smacked Roger in the arm and said, “You are the absolute worst! You know that?”

Sam and I both shook our heads at him as he laughed and innocently asked, “What? I can’t help it if girls are gullible! I deserve an Oscar for such a performance!”

“You deserve something, but it’s not an Oscar,” Sam said irritably.

“So, how long have all of you known about this?” I demanded, as I glanced around the table at everyone’s grinning faces.

“Well, I’ve been planning it for ages,” Brian told me, “but I didn’t get everyone else involved until a few weeks ago.”

“You have no idea how hard it’s been for this one to keep his mouth shut,” Mary said, pointing at Freddie.

“Oh my God, it has!” Freddie exclaimed, shaking his head at me. “You have no idea how many times I nearly let it slip! We’ve all been waiting on pins and needles for this day to arrive! I still can’t believe that one of us is actually going to be leg-shackled.”

“Leg-shackled?” Mary glared at him.

“Well, I mean that in the nicest possible way, darling,” Freddie quickly said, reaching over to pat the back of Mary’s hand. “I’m quite happy to feel as though I’m leg-shackled to you.”

Mary quirked an eyebrow his way and nodded with a look that clearly said that she was unconvinced.

Freddie simply grinned at her and reached for the second bottle of champagne, holding it aloft as he asked, “So…Who’s ready for more?”

“I’m ready for food!” Roger griped loudly. “Where did that bloody bartender go?!”

It seemed that the bartender must have heard him, because soon he was back at our table, giving Roger an icy glare as he took our order. 

Before long a waitress was setting steaming plates in front of each of us filled with bangers and mash or freshly cooked burgers or some other kind of typical pub grub, and in the case of Brian and me, fish and chips, if for sentimental reasons alone and nothing else.

The eight of us chattered away during our meal, ordering bottles of beer once the champagne was gone, and Freddie teased Brian and I mercilessly over the fact that he, and everyone else, had now seen the infamous bed where the “scene of the crime”, as he called it, had taken place a year before.

“Yeah, perhaps we should see the famous ‘stargazing’ field next,” Roger smirked as he shoveled his last bite of bangers and mash into his mouth.

“Ooh! Excellent idea!” Freddie agreed. “It does make one wonder what exactly took place in that field that led to needing a hotel room, doesn’t it, Rog? Something tells me there was more than just stargazing going on…”

“Bloody hell!” Roger exclaimed. “Can’t you just hear Brian now? Filling Carrie’s head with all of his astronomy crap, trying to explain zodiacal dust to her and God knows what else! She probably started kissing him just to shut him up!”

Freddie began laughing so hard that he was forced to drop his fork and wipe tears from his eyes with his napkin.

“Ha bloody ha!” Brian scoffed. “You two really should have your own comedy show on the BBC, you know that?”

“Seriously, darling,” Freddie said to me, once he’d caught his breath. “What did happen in that field? Did all his talk of science get you hot and bothered?”

“In a way, I suppose,” I chuckled.

“Well damn, I wish I’d have known that back when we were together!” Roger laughed. “You mean all I would have had to have done was give you a seductive look and say ‘Petri dish’ or ‘microscope’ and you would have been all over me?!”

“Nope, sorry,” I sneered. “It only works with astrophysics majors, not biology majors.”

“That’s right, Rog,” Brian snorted with laughter. “Astronomy is much sexier than biology. Didn’t you know?”

“Only to Carrie,” Roger scoffed. “Glad you found a woman who’s as strange as you are, Bri.”

“Me too,” Brian grinned at Roger. Then he thought about what he’d said and reached across the table to place his hand over mine as he quickly added, “Not that you’re strange, babe.”

“Don’t worry,” I laughed. “I take it as a compliment.”

“Which reminds me! I nearly forgot something,” Brian suddenly said as I finished up the last of my dinner. He moved his chair around the table so that it sat next to mine, then reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small wrapped box, holding it out to me with a smile. “I hope you didn’t really think that I’d forget your birthday.”

“You mean the ring wasn’t my present?” I asked, taking the tiny package from Brian’s hand.

“Of course not,” Brian replied. “This is something that I picked up at our favorite little antique shop in Hampstead. I hope you like it.”

I looked down at the small box wrapped up in lavender paper and tied with a purple bow, and couldn’t believe how much fuss was being made over me all in one day. I tugged at the ribbon and tore open the paper, and inside was yet another velvet covered jewelry box. I flipped open the lid, and gleaming up at me was a beautiful oval shaped golden locket on a chain.

“Oh, Brian…” I gasped, clutching a hand to my chest. “It’s beautiful!”

“It’s Victorian I think,” Brian said, reaching over to gently take the box back from me. He dug his thumb nail in between the two halves of the locket, flicked it open and said, “It opens at the side here, you see, and inside it has two sections where you can put small photos, or, whatever you like I suppose.”

He handed the box back to me, and I shook my head as I gazed lovingly at the simple, yet elegant, design. 

“It’s perfect,” I said, smiling, as I turned to see his hopeful expression. “And I know exactly what I’m going to put in it. On the right side I’ll put a picture of you, and on the left, I’d like to put a tiny lock of your hair, if you can spare one of your curls that is.”

“Hmm,” Brian teased, reaching up to fluff his long hair. “I think I can. But don’t take this one,” he said, stretching out a curl on the right side of his head with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “This one is my favorite.”

“You two are beyond strange,” Roger suddenly said, looking over my shoulder at the locket Brian had given me. “You’re going to carry his hair around in that thing?”

“Sure, why not?” I said. “It’s a Victorian locket after all, and wearing a lock of someone’s hair was very popular back then.”

“Yes, back _then!”_ Roger stressed. “This is 1973, love.”

“So?” I argued. “I’ll feel like I have a piece of him with me while I’m in America.”

Roger just shook his head and said, “Well, you two _are_ the ducks” before taking a long swig of his beer.

“Don’t listen to him,” Brian whispered in my ear. “I think it’s sweet that you want to put a bit of my hair in your locket. Actually, now that you mention it, I may want a lock of your hair before you go back to the States.”

Brian leaned his forehead against mine, running his fingers through my long hair, and then kissed me affectionately, making me feel like the luckiest, most loved girl in the whole world.

“Well, it appears the kissing has begun, darlings. I suppose that’s our cue to wander back to the bed & breakfast for the night,” Freddie said, tossing his napkin onto his empty plate.

“That sounds good to me,” Brian said, leaning back and waggling his eyebrows at me seductively. “I would like to spend _some_ time alone with my fiancé. In fact, I think maybe I’ll get one of those bottles of champagne to go…”


	67. Chapter 67

Brian walked to the bar to order the bottle of champagne, and even managed to talk the bartender out of a couple of his wine glasses, explaining that it was a very special occasion. We all left the pub and strolled leisurely back to the bed & breakfast with every couple holding hands, except for Brian and me. Brian held the champagne and glasses in one hand while his other was wrapped around my waist, pulling me in close to his side. My arm was wrapped around him as well, and with me being far shorter than he was, it was just too tempting not to let my hand drift a little lower as we walked, and give his adorable little ass a quick squeeze.

Brian jumped a little as I grabbed him, and the two troublemakers walking behind us immediately had to make their snide comments. Roger whistled loudly and Freddie said, “We’d better walk faster dears, or these two are going to end up doing it right here in the road.”

“Hey, I like that song,” Brian joked, glancing at Freddie over his shoulder. He was walking with a definite bounce in his step as he began singing, _“Why don’t we do it in the road…? Why don’t we do it in the road…?”_

Brian was the happiest I’d seen him in a long time, and off key or not, I just had to join in and sing with him. Soon we were all laughing and belting out The Beatles’ _Why Don’t We Do It In The Road?_ as we meandered up the front steps of the bed  & breakfast.

We knew instinctively that we had to quiet ourselves down before we walked inside, lest the little old lady hear us, but just to be safe, Brian turned to look at everyone with a finger pressed to his lips as he gently turned the doorknob and pushed open the door. One by one we trudged quietly up the stairs. My room with Brian was the second door on the right, the first door apparently belonging to John and Veronica, with Freddie and Mary and Roger and Sam both across the hall from us. 

I couldn’t keep my hands off of Brian as he fumbled with the key in the lock. I stood with my back to the door facing Brian as I ran my hands inside of his jacket, tugging at the black tie that he was still wearing.

“This is going to be the first thing to go,” I purred, as I reached up to his neck and worked the knot of his necktie loose.

“Damn it woman,” Brian grumbled, still fiddling with the lock on the door. “I can’t even unlock the door because of you!”

He was grinning as he said it, and the key was momentarily forgotten as Brian pressed his free hand against the door beside me, his other hand still clutching the champagne and glasses, and kissed me with a hunger and passion already darkening his gorgeous hazel eyes.

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” Freddie wailed, walking across the hall and gently shoving Brian and me away from the door. He reached for the key, still dangling from the lock, and said, “How do the two of you ever get anything accomplished when you’re alone, honest to God?!”

He twisted the key in the lock, and instantly the door sprang open.

“There!” Freddie proclaimed, taking Brian’s hand and slapping the key against his palm. “Now you two can kiss and remove articles of clothing and God knows what else to your heart’s content!”

Brian and I were about to enter our room and do just that, when Freddie stopped us and said, “Wait! I nearly forgot! I’ve got something for the two of you!”

He dashed across the hall to his room, where Mary had just finished unlocking their own door, and quickly ran inside, coming back out a moment later with some sort of a glass jar in his hands.

“Here,” he said, shoving a jar of chocolate sauce at Brian and me while an impish grin played about the corners of his mouth. “I remembered that the two of you like to play with food while you screw each other, and since I couldn’t keep a can of whipped cream refrigerated, I thought you might enjoy this as a nice change.”

Roger was in a fit of hysterics as soon as he spotted what Freddie was giving us, and it was clear that Sam was a little confused about what was going on. 

“I’ll tell you later,” Roger assured her once he caught his breath.

Brian, meanwhile, casually took the jar from Freddie, juggling it in the same hand that held our room key, and simply said, “Thanks. I think we’ll be able to put this to good use.”

He flashed Freddie a crooked smile, then gave everyone a quick nod before adding, “Night all! See you downstairs for breakfast in the morning!” The two of us wandered into the room, giving everyone one last quick glance as Brian said as an afterthought, “Well… _maybe_ we’ll see you for breakfast…”

Brian closed the door with a decided click, and finally, we were alone. 

He waggled the jar Freddie had given him in front of me with a naughty gleam in his eye, and said, “Well, what do you think, Mrs. May? In the mood for a little chocolate tonight?”

“I’m always in the mood for chocolate,” I grinned, taking the jar from Brian’s hand and setting it on a nearby table along with the champagne and glasses he’d been holding. I reached up to twine my hands around Brian’s neck, and immediately our lips were seeking each other’s out for a fiery kiss. It didn’t take long before my back was pressed up against the nearest wall with Brian running his hands up inside of my sweater as our mouths devoured one another’s with wild abandon.

I reached up to pull Brian’s tie the rest of the way off, and was surprised when he suddenly broke our kiss and pulled away.

“Wait,” he said breathlessly. “This isn’t quite how I wanted this night to go.”

“What?” I asked, scowling up at him.

“I mean, I wanted it to be special,” he said. “More romantic. I want this to be a magical night that we’ll never forget.”

He reached down and took hold of his tie, still clasped in my hand, and tugged both it and me across the room to the bed, where he instructed me to sit down.

“Just stay put for a minute while I do something,” he said.

I wasn’t about to argue, and watched as Brian dug into our suitcase, which was still lying on the bed next to me, and pulled out a small plastic bottle of some sort. He dashed off to the bathroom, and I could hear the squeaky sound of faucet knobs turning as the bathtub began filling with water. Brian rushed back out of the bathroom a few minutes later and grabbed up a couple of the candles that were still sitting around the various surfaces of the room. He took them into the bathroom, along with a small box of matches I noticed, and after a minute or two he was back out again, fiddling with the bottle of champagne as the bathtub continued to fill.

I couldn’t help but smile as I watched him struggle to pop the cork out of the bottle, eventually sending it sailing across the room where it bounced off of the dresser and landed on the floor. The champagne immediately began flowing, and Brian quickly reached for a glass to catch the fizzy liquid before it went everywhere. After filling both glasses, those too were taken into the bathroom, where the faucet over the bathtub was suddenly turned off.

Brian reentered the room with a grin spreading from ear to ear as he walked toward me and reached for my hands, pulling me back up into a standing position.

“Everything’s set,” he whispered, lowering his face to mine for a sweet, affectionate kiss. 

He reached for the hem of my sweater, pulling the unwanted garment up over my head and tossing in casually onto the bed. My bra was the next item to go, as he reached around to my back and popped open the hooks and eyes holding it together. He shrugged out of his jacket then, and I reached up to start unbuttoning his shirt.

Soon our clothes were nothing but a memory as Brian led me toward the bathroom by the hand. The tiny room was mostly dark, with nothing but two spluttering candles providing light from atop the bathroom sink. The sweet scent of roses filled the air, and I realized that the bathtub was filled not just with water, but with a scented bubble bath as well. Brian helped me into the tub, and reached for the two glasses of champagne, also sitting on the sink, before settling into the warm bath water himself. I couldn’t help but think back to the last time we’d been sitting in that very bathtub. We’d been facing each other in the same exact spots that we found ourselves in once again, but things had been new and a little awkward between us then, and we made up for it by splashing and playing with each other, which had been romantic in it’s own way, but nothing quite like what we were experiencing the second time around. It was hard to believe that an entire year had passed since that fateful morning, and it was incredible to think about how much Brian and I had been through in such a short time.

Brian handed me my glass and raised his in the air, saying “To the future Mr. and Mrs. May.”

“To the future Mr. and Mrs. May,” I repeated, clinking my glass against his. We swallowed down the fizzy beverage, and immediately began kissing, quickly setting our glasses aside on the cold tiled floor before they got broken. I scooted closer to Brian, our legs intertwining in the warm bubbly water as we wrapped our arms around each other tightly, pressing our bodies together as we kissed each other passionately.

“Do you remember the last time we were in this bathtub?” Brian asked, pulling away from me momentarily to rest his forehead against mine.

“Mm-hmm,” I smiled. “I remember you dumping water on my head.”

“You mean like this?” Brian teased, and once again I felt warm water trickling down my neck and back as Brian hoisted handfuls of water above my head, chuckling under his breath as he watched my wet hair fall into my face.

“You, Mr. May, are seriously asking for it,” I replied, reaching up to wipe the hair out of my eyes. Without hesitation, I scooped up a large blob of bubbles from the water, and plastered them into Brian’s hair. “There,” I said with a slightly evil grin, “Now I know what you’re going to look like when you’re an old man and have white hair.”

“So I take it you’re planning on staying with me until we’re old and grey?” Brian asked, smearing a dollop of bubbles onto the tip of my nose.

“Oh, you’re not _ever_ going to get rid of me, I hope you know that,” I grinned, patting a handful of bubbles onto Brian’s chin so that he had a matching white goat-tee to go with his white hair.

Brian leaned back against the back of the tub, pulling me on top of him, water sloshing everywhere as he held my body against his, our lips meeting again for a warm, desire filled kiss. The bubbles on my nose and his chin were making a sticky mess all over our faces, but neither of us seemed to care. We were back at the very place where we’d given in to our carnal lusts a year before, and we were more than ready to give in to them once again.

I could feel that Brian was already hard beneath me, so I reached down between our bodies and wrapped my hand around him, stroking him up and down as I kissed my way down his neck and chest.

“Oh God baby…” he moaned, running his fingers through my long damp hair, as I kissed even lower still.

I got right to the edge of the water, glanced up at Brian with a cheeky grin, and asked, “What do you think? Could I do it underwater?”

“You mean, um…” Brian spluttered, looking down at me slightly agog.

I waggled my eyebrows, held my nose between my thumb and forefinger, and lowered my head under the water, opening my mouth only when I felt Brian’s hardness pressing against my lips. I took him into my mouth quickly so that I wouldn’t end up with a mouthful of bubble bath filled water, and began sucking as best I could, my hair floating around my face as I listened to the muffled sounds of Brian moaning above the water.

I held my breath as long as I could, but it wasn’t long before my head was popping up once again through a mountain of bubbles. I swiped the hair out of my face and rubbed my eyes, then glanced up at Brian with an innocent grin.

“Well?” I asked. “What did you think?”

“I think I’m the luckiest damn man in the whole world, that’s what I think,” Brian breathed, and reached under my arms to pull me back on top of him, capturing my mouth in a fiery kiss.

“So now what?” I asked breathlessly, finally coming up for air after a few more kisses. “Wanna give it a try yourself?”

Brian quirked an eyebrow at me and said, “I bet I can hold my breath longer than you can.”

“This is one bet that I hope you win,” I teased, kissing him long and hard one last time.

We rolled over together in the tub, slopping water and bubbles over the sides as we switched places. I sat up a little and scooted backwards until I was pressed against the back of the tub. Brian scrunched up his body, lying on top of me as best he could, as he took each of my breasts into his mouth one at a time, kissing and suckling at each one until I felt like I might explode with pent up desire. He kissed his way lower, and lower, until he finally sucked in a mouthful of air, and dipped his head below the water. I watched as his dark curls mixed with the white bubbles floating on top of the water, and then I felt his warm tongue darting between my legs, sending shivers from my head down to my toes as I clutched at his shoulders.

“Oh God…” I gasped, leaning my head back against the edge of the tub.

I bit my bottom lip and whimpered as Brian’s mouth continued to work magic. By the time his sexy, adorable head popped back up out of the water, dripping wet, I was in awe over how long he’d managed to hold his breath.

“Well?” he grinned, wiping the water out of his eyes. “How was that?”

Instead of saying anything, I just wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him closer for a hot, steamy kiss. His hand roamed down the front of my body as we kissed until he found his way between my legs, plunging two long slender fingers inside of me until I was moaning into his mouth with pleasure.

“Oh God, Brian, I can’t take it anymore…” I gasped as Brian nibbled at my neck, his fingers moving harder and faster. “I think we need to move this to the bed…”

I didn’t have to ask twice. Brian immediately reached over and pulled the plug from the drain. He hoisted himself from the tub and stepped out, knocking one of the wine glasses over in the process, but thankfully not breaking it, and reached for a towel. He held out a hand to me and helped me out of the tub, wrapping the towel he’d pulled from the rack around me.

We quickly dried off, but were both slightly sticky from the bubble bath clinging to our skin. Nevertheless, we hung the towels in a haphazard fashion back upon the rack where we’d gotten them and wrapped our arms around each other, kissing with a desperate need, as we slowly meandered out of the bathroom and back into our room. Never had a bed looked so inviting. And the fact that it was the very bed where we’d made love for the first time just made the whole experience seem that much sweeter.

We kissed all the way to the edge of the bed, where Brian quickly ripped the covers back before shoving me down onto my back with a playful grin.

“Feisty tonight Mr. May?” I teased, flashing him a salacious smile.

“You started it with your naughty foreplay in the bathtub,” Brian replied, practically pouncing on top of me, as he spread my legs apart with his knees and settled between my thighs.

Just like the first time we’d had sex a year before, our desire for each other was too strong, and immediately Brian was pushing himself inside of me, taking my breath away with the sensation of our bodies being joined together.

“Oh God yes…” I gasped, tossing my head back onto the pillow as I wrapped my arms around Brian’s back, feeling his muscles tighten beneath my fingers as he began moving inside of me.

I opened my eyes to glance up at him, and our eyes locked onto one another’s for a moment, sending shivers down my entire body as I realized that this sexy man making love to me was soon going to be my husband. His hazel eyes were dark with desire, his breathing was ragged, and his damp curly hair was hanging all around his face as he gazed down at me. I couldn’t believe that I was going to get to spend the rest of my life with the sexiest man I’d ever laid eyes on. 

Brian thrust harder and faster inside of me, making me whimper with delight, as I wrapped my legs around his body, pulling him even closer. His rock hard chest was just too tantalizing as he hovered above me, and I tilted my head slightly, latching onto his warm skin with my mouth, sucking and teasing him until I left a small love bite just above his right nipple. Not to be outdone, Brian bent his head lower to capture my mouth in a fiery kiss, then trailed a row of light feathery kisses across my face and jawline until he reached my neck, where he began nibbling and sucking at my skin as his warm breath tickled my ear. 

Just when I began to think that I might go crazy with desire, Brian suddenly rolled over onto his back, taking me with him. I kept the momentum of our lovemaking going by moving over the top of him, my damp hair hanging down around my face and gently brushing against Brian’s chest. Brian bit his bottom lip as he gently reached up to massage both of my breasts, teasing my hard nipples with his thumbs, as our hips continued to grind together in unison.

“Oh God baby, I think I’m already gonna come…” Brian gasped as he moved his hands around to my ass, holding on tightly as he thrust his hips harder and faster against me. It didn’t matter to me whether or not he reached his climax early, because I was about to do the same.

“Brian!” I cried, grasping onto his arms for dear life. “Oh God! Brian!”

“Fuck, baby, yes!” Brian moaned as he held me tight against his hips, both of our bodies shaking with pleasure.

“Oh my God…” I breathed, smoothing the hair away from my face while I continued to straddle Brian’s body.

“You, madam, are one naughty little minx,” Brian teased, looking up at me with a mischievous gleam in his eyes as he tried to catch his breath. “I just kept thinking about what we were doing in the tub, that I couldn’t contain myself.”

“Who says I wanted you to contain yourself,” I purred with a crooked grin, as I leaned forward, laying my body over the top of Brian’s. I could feel his heart racing beneath my chest, and it was thrilling to know that I could elicit such a reaction from him.

“God you’re sexy…” Brian whispered, reaching up to cup my face between his hands as we gave each other a long, passionate kiss.

“So…” I said, once the kissing had stopped. “We still have the rest of the bottle of champagne and that jar of chocolate to think about.”

“You’re saying you’re not tired then?” Brian asked hopefully.

“Of course I’m not tired silly!” I laughed.

“That’s exactly what I wanted to hear!” Brian grinned. He gave me one last playful kiss, then gently rolled me off of him as he hopped off the bed and made his way across the room toward the bathroom.

I could hear the faucet over the sink running momentarily, and soon Brian was sauntering back out of the bathroom with a wine glass clutched in each hand. He made his way over to the small table by the door, where he’d left the champagne, and refilled both glasses before wandering back to the bed to hand me one.

“Don’t worry, I rinsed out the one that fell on the floor,” Brian assured me, as I sat up a little to take the glass from him. He flashed me a quick smile then and said, “Be right back.” 

I watched as he walked across the room just long enough to pick up the jar of chocolate then quickly came back to the bed with a grin spreading from ear to ear.

He sat down next to me, depositing the chocolate on the bed in front of us, and held up his glass, saying, “Cheers!”

“Cheers!” I smiled, clinking his glass with mine before we each took a long swig.

It was then that we both realized that we could hear muffled voices coming from the room next door. We glanced at each other silently over the rims of our glasses knowing that it had to be John and Veronica since they were just on the other side of the wall. Once we realized that we could make out some of what they were saying, it was too tempting not to eavesdrop a little as we sipped our champagne.

“You might like it,” we could hear John say.

“It’s going to be too big,” Veronica responded.

Brian nearly spit his mouthful of champagne all over the bed, as we looked at each other in wide-eyed surprise.

“Just try it,” John went on.

“Did you clean it?” Veronica asked.

Brian’s eyes and mine grew even bigger still as we both stifled a giggle.

“Of course I cleaned it,” John replied.

“What the fuck does he have that had to be cleaned??” Brian asked me with his mouth hanging open slightly.

I just shook my head, my hand firmly over my mouth to keep myself from laughing out loud. Soon we could hear moans and cries of pleasure that were most definitely female in origin.

“Well, whatever he’s doing to her, she must like it,” I whispered, still trying not to laugh.

“I always knew that John was a little on the freaky side,” Brian replied, shaking his head slightly.

I picked up the jar of chocolate sauce and held it up as I grinned at Brian.

“Something tells me we shouldn’t judge you and I,” I giggled.

“When you’re right, you’re right,” Brian shrugged. He took my champagne from me, and turned to set both his drink and mine on the nightstand before reaching for the jar and saying, “Let me see that.”

He struggled with the lid for a moment then finally managed to pop it open. He dipped his index finger inside, scooping out a large dollop of chocolate, then immediately popped his finger into his mouth.

“Mmm,” he mumbled, before licking his finger clean, “it’s good.”

He instantly dipped his finger straight back in for seconds.

“Want some?” he asked with a naughty little grin, as he held his finger in front of my face.

I leaned forward slightly and took his finger into my mouth, sucking every bit of chocolate off before licking my lips.

“Not bad,” I said, quirking an eyebrow at Brian.

“I don’t know…” he said with a slight shake of his head. “I’m starting to think you perform better under water.”

I narrowed my eyes and smacked him playfully, as he laughed and raised his arms up in self-defense.

“Okay! Okay! I was only joking! Don’t hurt me!” Brian laughed.

“Wimp!” I teased, and dipped my fingers into the jar of chocolate, smearing it across Brian’s nose and cheeks.

“Oh, now you’ve done it…” Brian said, momentarily looking at me with a shocked expression, his face covered in sticky chocolate. I couldn’t help but laugh, because not only was his face a mess, but his hair had begun to dry as well, and was sticking up in all directions from the bubble bath still clinging to his head.

Before I could stop him, he reached out and snatched the jar of chocolate from my hands, dipping his fingers inside and smearing the thick sticky substance all over my face, slopping it across the sheets and blankets on the bed as he went.

“Ugh! Now look what you’ve done!” I exclaimed, indicating the mess on the sheets, as I reached up to wipe dripping chocolate off of the end of my nose. Payback, I decided, was going to be a bitch, and I immediately reached for the jar, still clutched in Brian’s hands, and dipped my fingers inside, pulling out a large glob that I instantly smooshed into his already disheveled hair.

“Not my hair!” he cried, trying to get away from me but not moving quite fast enough.

I bobbed and weaved right along with him until he had chocolate caked in his normally fluffy curls. He glowered at me as he reached up to run his fingers through his sticky hair. I just sat back and laughed as I wiped the chocolate left on my hand onto his leg, which was the nearest part of his body that I could reach.

“You are _so_ dead…” Brian whispered menacingly as he shook his head at me.

I stuck my tongue out at him tauntingly, and like a flash, Brian lunged at me, knocking me onto my back, as he poured chocolate over my breasts and stomach, and smeared it all over my skin with his hands. I protested as loudly as I could, but really, I was loving every minute of our little food fight.

Soon we were both covered from head to toe in chocolate. It was in our hair, all over our faces, spread out across our bodies, and worst of all, our bed looked as though someone had murdered a Hershey bar. The only place where there wasn’t any chocolate was inside the jar itself.

“Shit… It’s all gone!” Brian laughed, as he reached his fingers into the jar and came out empty handed. He even turned it upside down and shook it a little, trying to eke out one last drop, but it was no use, the chocolate was officially gone. He reached back to set the empty jar on the nightstand then pulled my sticky body on top of his and said, “I guess we’re going to have to figure out something else to do now.”

“Well,” I grinned. “I can think of a few ways that we could get all this chocolate back off of us…”

“Mmm, me too…” Brian replied, waggling his eyebrows at me before pulling me closer for a long, deep kiss.

The room seemed oddly quiet for a moment, then instantly, Brian and I were both wishing for silence once more as we heard Veronica next door saying, “John…Can you untie me now?”

We instantly stopped kissing and stared at one another completely agog.

I shook my head and asked, “What kind of people do you hang out with for God’s sake??”


	68. Chapter 68

“It’s not working!”

“Well, try mine then!”

I could hear muffled voices coming from somewhere, but I was so tired after being up most of the night having sex with Brian, that I couldn’t really bring myself to care. I tried to roll over only to find that I was, yet again, stuck to the sticky chocolate covered sheets, and barely able to move. I eventually gave up the fight, and just went back to sleep.

“You’re not turning it right!”

“Well you bloody well do it then!”

I heard the voices again along with a faint rattling and then a soft click. Still, I slept on.

“There! See? I told you one of them would work! All these old locks are basically the same. If you’ve got a key for one, it’s bound to work on another.”

“Look, there’s one of their cameras…”

Somewhere in the back of my mind it was starting to slowly dawn on me that I should probably be alarmed over the presence of these two voices, and that I might want to wake up. My body was apparently not getting the message.

“What the fuck?”

“Holy shit! What did they do, _bathe_ in the chocolate??”

It was at that moment that both Brian and I came around, waking up with a start.

“What the…” Brian mumbled groggily, as I too cracked my eyes open. Next thing I knew, Brian was reaching frantically for the blankets, whipping them up over our naked bodies in a flash.

“Say cheese!” I heard what I now knew was Roger say, just before he snapped a picture of Brian and me glaring at the camera half asleep, chocolate and bubble bath still clinging to our skin and hair.

“What the?? Why?? _How_ in the _hell_ did you two get in here??” Brian demanded, as he tried unsuccessfully to run a hand through his sticky, crispy curls. Roger and Freddie replied by clutching at their sides and congratulating each other over finding Brian and me in such a state.

“You two… I swear to God!!” Freddie was barely able to choke out between sidesplitting laughs. He was leaning against Roger’s shoulder, wiping at the tears running from his eyes, as Roger decided to snap one more picture.

“There, that should do it,” Roger announced with a crooked grin. “One of them is bound to come out okay.”

_“Why_ must you two pick on us like this _every_ time?!” I grumbled, reaching up to rub my eyes. “Aren’t we even allowed to have a quiet morning after getting engaged for God’s sake??”

“We were merely going to come in and play a prank on the two of you,” Freddie replied, still stifling a laugh. “But finding the two of you naked and lying in a pool of chocolate… Well, that’s the kind of gift that just keeps on giving!”

“I’ll be sure to get some copies of the photos for you, Fred, so you can always remember the occasion,” Roger said jovially, patting Freddie on the back.

“Oh, God yes! Please do!” Freddie laughed.

“No, he won’t get you any copies, because it’s my bloody camera!” Brian fumed. “And neither of you ever answered me! How did you get in here?!”

“We used Roger’s key,” Freddie casually replied.

“Yeah, you know how these old-fashioned locks are, mate,” Roger grinned at Brian. “Keys are all about the same. Not hard to break in.”

“And what were you hoping to find by breaking in?!” Brian went on.

“Well, we sure as hell weren’t expecting this!” Roger laughed, indicating the messy state of our bed. “We’ve found you ducks in some interesting predicaments before, but this one takes the cake!”

“Yes, darlings!” Freddie added, reaching over to the nightstand and picking up the empty jar of chocolate. “When I gave this to you I meant for you to do sexy things with it, not spread it all over your bed and roll around in it like pigs in the mud!”

“What the hell _did_ you do with it?” Roger demanded, taking the jar from Freddie and examining it.

Brian and I finally took a good look at each other, and the state of the once white linens on the bed, and realized that perhaps we had gone a little overboard. Brian’s hair was sticking up in every conceivable direction, some of it still curly, other strands of hair stiff and almost straight from being caked with chocolate. His face still had traces of chocolate here and there, as did his neck, chest and arms, and I couldn’t help but think that he looked a bit like a feral child who’d been living in the woods for his entire life. The more I looked at him, in fact, the funnier the whole thing seemed, and I had to finally give in and laugh over the sheer absurdity of the whole situation.

Brian just shook his head at me at first, but then he too started laughing, and the two of us in turn got Roger and Freddie laughing all over again.

“Do you know that you’ve got a lock of hair that’s covered in chocolate and sticking straight out at the side of your head?” Brian asked me through a fit of uncontrollable giggles.

“Not to mention the entire left side of her face!” Roger added.

“And a few other areas that I recall seeing before Brian pulled the covers over her…” Freddie grinned salaciously.

“Son of a bitch…” I groaned. “Did you two see me naked? Again?”

Before anyone could answer, the sound of a door closing was heard out in the hallway, followed immediately by the appearance of John’s head peeking into the doorway of our room.

“What are you all laughing about in here?” he asked quietly, creeping slowly into the room.

“And you!” Brian exclaimed, pointing at John as he came closer to the bed. I could still see movement out in the hall, and realized that Veronica was peeking her head into our room as well. “What in the hell were you doing last night?!”

“Me?” John asked innocently, placing a hand up to his chest. “Why? What did I do?”

Freddie and Roger’s ears seemed to perk up like a couple of dogs that had just heard a whistle blown.

“If I knew the answer to that, I wouldn’t be having to ask you!” Brian replied. “All I know is that you had to ‘clean’ something before using it on Veronica, and then apparently a short time later, you had her tied up!”

Freddie and Roger looked as giddy as a couple of kids on Christmas morning, as they stared at John with a mixture of shock and admiration.

“Oh no…” I heard Veronica say in a horrified voice. All I could see were the two of her eyes widening with surprise, before she turned and fled the scene, muttering “Oh no” several more times as she went.

“I, um… that is, we…” John spluttered as he turned a violent shade of red.

“You know what…” Brian said, holding up a silencing hand. “I’ve changed my mind, I don’t want to know!”

“Well I do!” Freddie wailed.

“Damn, John, really?” Roger asked, clearly seeing Queen’s normally quiet bass player in a whole new light. He wrapped an arm around John’s shoulders and said, “Are you ready to go down to breakfast? Let me see if Sam is ready to go down to breakfast. You and I need to talk…”

Roger led John from the room, their heads together in quiet conversation, as Freddie cried out, “Why am I being left out of this??” He turned to Brian and me and said, “I’ll see you two downstairs for breakfast” before turning and rushing away out the door towards his own room.

“Close our door please!!” Brian called out, but it was no use. Everyone was already gone.

I looked at Brian and giggled and said, “Well, just another typical day in the life of a Queen girlfriend I guess!”

“That’s fiancé now,” Brian reminded me with a grin. “Your title has been elevated.”

He dropped a quick kiss on the tip of my nose then pulled the blanket off of the bed, wrapping it around himself, as he made sure that I still had the top sheet covering me. He wandered across the room, trying not to trip over the edge of the blanket, as he reached for the door to close it.

I could still hear Roger and John chitter-chattering out in the hall, and soon I heard Sam’s voice as well, saying, “Morning Brian. That’s some hairdo you’ve got going on this morning.”

“Oh, um, it’s chocolate…” Brian mumbled, blushing slightly.

“Ah. Well, at least you’ve pinpointed the cause. The next step is washing it out,” Sam teased, poking her head into our room. “Morning Carrie!”

“Morning Sam,” I smiled.

“I see you’re covered in chocolate too, huh?” Sam asked. “When Roger told me about the whipped cream incident last night I thought he must be joking, but now I can see that he must have been right.”

“We, uh, we have our moments,” I said, reaching up to feel the bit of hair sticking out on the side of my head that Brian had mentioned.

“You know, for two relatively quiet people, you two do seem to have some freaky sex,” Sam laughed.

“Yeah, until we heard John and Veronica last night,” I practically snorted. “Brian and I seem positively tame by comparison now.”

“Why?” Sam eagerly asked. “What did John and Veronica do?”

“You should go ask your boyfriend,” Brian grinned, giving Sam a light shove back out the door. “I’m sure he knows the whole story now that he’s interrogated John.”

“All right, I’m going, I’m going,” Sam laughed. “Are you two coming down for breakfast?”

“If we can bathe, yes,” Brian nodded.

“See you downstairs then,” Sam grinned, as Brian finally shut the door.

“Tell me, do you think there will ever be a time when we’re allowed some privacy?” Brian asked, smoothing chocolate covered hair away from his forehead as he leaned his back against the door.

“As long as you remain with Queen, not likely,” I smirked. “And need I remind you that _you’re_ the one who wanted to share our engagement with these people?”

“God, don’t remind me,” Brian said, rolling his eyes skyward. “Do we have to invite them to the wedding do you think?”

“I don’t know,” I laughed. “Running off to Gretna Green in Scotland is sounding better all the time…”

Brian and I took turns taking a bath, with the bathwater turning a lovely shade of brown each time, got dressed as quickly as we could, and finally made it downstairs just a few minutes before breakfast stopped being served. Everyone else had already eaten, but were still sitting at their tables chatting while they waited for us.

“Finally!” Roger called out, lifting a cup of tea to his lips. “There’s the Mr. and Mrs.!”

“Sorry guys,” Brian apologized, as he approached one of the small round tables in the breakfast room and pulled out a chair for me. “The chocolate proved more difficult to wash out than we’d anticipated.”

The little old lady that ran the place wandered out of the kitchen with a teapot to freshen everyone’s cups, and immediately spotted Brian and me.

“Oh, good morning,” she smiled at us, as she poured more tea into Roger’s cup.

“Good morning,” Brian and I smiled in return.

“You’re just in time for breakfast,” the lady said. “Would you like a full breakfast this morning?”

Brian and I grinned at each other across the table, somehow instinctively knowing that the other was ravenous, as Brian said, “Sure, why not. Bring us the lot.”

The lady nodded, and was about to turn and head back into the kitchen, when Roger reached out to lightly touch her arm, asking her, “Do you do all the cooking yourself?”

“Why, yes. I do,” the lady replied.

“Well, breakfast was simply magnificent,” Roger grinned at her, his blue eyes sparkling mischievously. “I’m half tempted to ask you to marry me so that I could eat like that everyday.”

“Cheeky boy,” the lady laughed, smacking Roger lightly on the arm, as she turned to walk away. She gave Brian and me a quick glance before she headed into the kitchen, as she said, “I’ll be right back with two cups for your tea.”

Brian just looked across the room at Roger, shaking his head.

“What?” Roger asked with a crooked grin.

“Bloody flirt,” Brian laughed.

Soon two plates filled with traditional English bacon, eggs, beans, tomatoes and toast were set in front of Brian and me, along with our cups of tea, and Brian and I both dug in, eating greedily. It was amazing how much of an appetite a long night of sex could give a person.

Once breakfast was over, we each wandered back up to our rooms just long enough to pack up our belongings and get ready to leave. Roger’s car had still not been rescued from the side of the road where we’d left it, so Brian quickly ran Roger down the street in his own car to fetch it. Thankfully it was still there and in one piece, and soon it was being loaded up with Roger and Sam’s things so that they could head back into London. Freddie, Mary, John and Veronica had come by train and were forced to call a cab to take them to the train station, since Brian and I couldn’t possibly fit all six of us and our belongings into Brian’s Mini. We each said our goodbyes, took a few last minute silly pictures of everyone posing in front of the bed & breakfast, and then we were on our way, heading back into London with me staring down at my new old ring most of the way, still unable to believe that I was now an engaged woman.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Things got back to normal relatively quickly after our short stay in Hampshire. I had to get back to school and the guys immediately had to begin rehearsals for their forthcoming concert at The Marquee Club on April 9th. Other than writing a long letter to my parents filled with all the details of Brian’s proposal, and, of course, a stack of photos from the occasion, the matter of us getting married had to be momentarily put on the backburner as Queen business took precedence once again. The guys had a lot riding on the Marquee show, and they knew it. EMI had planned the concert as a showcase gig for a man named Jac Holzman from Elektra Records in the States, and it was very important that Queen looked and played their best, particularly after the fiasco of their last show at the Marquee.

Thankfully, it all turned out well. The guys were nervous, and probably weren’t the absolute best I’d seen them, but it was enough to impress Mr. Holzman, and without hesitation, they were offered a record deal with Elektra. This meant that their music would be released all around the world, and the guys were ecstatic! It was unbelievable how seemingly overnight the band had gone from absolute despair of ever having a record deal at all, to being signed by two major labels in both the UK and America. The Elektra deal was especially good news for me, since I knew that I would probably be back in the States when Queen’s first records were released. It was comforting somehow to know that even if I couldn’t be with Brian to share in his excitement, at least I could go to my local record shop and buy his music and support the band.

The thought of going back to the States was becoming ever more prevalent in my mind as I put much of my efforts into getting my schoolwork done throughout the remainder of the month of April. I decided that if I could keep myself as busy as possible, that nagging thoughts of leaving the UK in just a few short months could somehow be kept at bay. Sometimes it worked, and sometimes it didn’t. Quiet moments were the worst. There were some nights when I would lay awake in bed, just watching Brian sleep, looking so peaceful and serene, and I wondered to myself how I would manage to sleep by myself again once I was back in California. I’d become so accustomed to the feel of Brian’s body next to mine, to the sound of him gently breathing and lulling me to sleep. How would I ever be able to function without it? Brian wasn’t aware of it at the time, but there were plenty of nights that I laid my head on his chest and cried myself to sleep while listening to the sound of his heart beating.

Despite the fact that I was busier than ever with school, Queen, it seemed, finally had a bit of a break while they awaited the release of their first single. No concerts had been scheduled, the album was finished and ready to be pressed, and all they had to do was wait. I was thrilled that Brian and I finally had a few precious moments to ourselves. Our time together was dwindling, and I wanted to make the most of what little time we had left. 

The one thing that made me happier than just about anything at that point, was talking about and making plans for our upcoming wedding. I knew that focusing on our future together was the one thing that could keep me going throughout the time that Brian and I would be apart. Since neither of us knew for certain when I’d be able to move back to England or what Queen’s schedule was going to be like over the next year or so, we didn’t feel comfortable trying to set a date. We did, however, talk about where we’d like to get married and the kind of wedding we’d like to have. Or, perhaps I should say _weddings,_ as in the plural form. It became more and more obvious to both of us, as we talked and planned and listened to everything that our parents had to say, that there would have to be not one, but two weddings in our future. 

The word had spread throughout Brian’s family like wildfire that Harold and Ruth’s only child was going to be tying the knot, and everyone was thrilled, until they learned that he was going to be marrying an American girl, then instantly the sentiments changed from “Congratulations!” to “Well, he _will_ be getting married here in England, won’t he??” No one in Brian’s family had the money or the ability to fly all the way to the States for a wedding, and who was I to deprive his entire extended family from sharing our joy? Naturally this meant that we would have to get married in England, however, this in turn became a problem for my family!

My mother hated to travel, therefore a trip to England was completely out of the question, and like Brian’s family, my extended family certainly couldn’t afford a costly trip to the UK anymore than his family could afford to go to The States. The two of us were about to despair completely of ever finding a workable solution, when Brian’s mother, Ruth, suggested to us one afternoon that perhaps we could have two smaller weddings rather than one large one. It seemed like a strange notion to say our vows twice, but we realized that it would either have to be this or eloping, and we knew that neither of our families would ever forgive us if we did that. So, two weddings were decided upon, with Ruth and I primarily making the plans for our England wedding, and my mom and I working out the details for the one in the States.

I’d never seen either my mother or Brian’s so excited, and soon I was dealing with a constant barrage of afternoon visits from Ruth over wedding plans, or phone calls from my mom at all hours of the day or night, telling me of her latest thoughts for venues, or flowers or dresses or anything else that came to mind. I was even receiving more letters than usual from my mom, mostly with clippings from bridal magazines showcasing pictures of flowing white gowns or ideas for party favors or centerpieces for tables. Although it was sometimes a bit overwhelming, I was glad for anything that kept my mind occupied and prevented me from dwelling on the fact that I was going to have to leave Brian and my life in London behind in the not too distant future.

In the end, Brian and I decided that for our English wedding, we wanted to get married at our little bed & breakfast in Hampshire, possibly outdoors if the weather permitted. Roger would serve as Brian’s best man, and Annie would be my maid of honor, and we wouldn’t have anything too elaborate, just some lovely flowers and enough seats for all of Brian’s friends and family, and perhaps a reception at The Crown in Axford. After spending our wedding night in England, we’d likely have to fly off to America, where our second wedding would be awaiting us. I hadn’t decided on a venue for that wedding yet, although my mother had been making it clear that she hoped for a traditional church wedding of some sort. Afterwards we would have yet another reception, and Brian and I were toying with various options for our honeymoon. The plans all seemed to be falling into place, and the only thing that we really had left to come up with was the date itself.

By the beginning of May I was forced to put all talk of weddings aside for a while as I buckled down to finish my up schoolwork. The date of my last day at King’s College was quickly approaching, and I had papers to write and finals to study for. I kept myself so continuously busy in my efforts to get the best grades possible that I scarcely had time to think of the fact that my year and a half at Kings College was nearly at an end. When May 18th rolled around, however, and it truly hit me that I wouldn’t be gracing the halls or classrooms of my beloved school any longer, I broke down completely.

Brian knew that I was going to need every ounce of support that he could provide on my last day, and showed up at my last class bearing a beautiful bouquet of pink roses. All of my fellow students, and even my teachers, knew my story by this point, and were aware of how much I hated the prospect of going back to America. So when Brian poked his head through the door of my classroom and smiled at me, brandishing his lovely flowers, everyone let out an audible “Awww!” and soon there wasn’t a dry eye to be found amongst my female classmates. I made sure that I got phone numbers and addresses from all of my closest friends so that we could stay in touch, and even Professor Albertson, whom I thought barely knew of my existence, wished me luck and promised to keep an eye out for any potential jobs for me in the London area while I finished up my degree at Stanford. 

The hardest part, of course, was saying goodbye to Annie. We’d been though so much over the last year and a half, she and I, and the thought of not getting to see her everyday felt like a piece of my heart was being torn from my chest. I thought back to the first day we’d met, standing on The Strand in the freezing wind. I might have still been standing there if she hadn’t come along and rescued me, taking me by the hand and telling me that everything was going to be okay. I owed her so much. She’d become my best friend, the person I went to for everything, and if it hadn’t been for her, I would have never known where to go or what to wear. Without her I would have never gone to Kensington Market and I would have never met Queen. We hugged each other tight and cried, wishing that we never had to say goodbye.

“But you’re going to be back soon, right?” Annie said, pulling away from me and looking down at me through eyes brimming with tears. “I mean, you’ll only be at Stanford for a few months, and then you’ll be able to come back.”

“Provided I find a job here, yes,” I replied, swiping at the tears running down my face.

“You will. I know you will,” Annie said encouragingly. “There’s going to be loads of places wanting to snatch you up as smart as you are. And besides…”

Annie reached over and patted Brian on the back as he leaned on a desk just a few feet away.

“You can’t keep this fella waiting too long you know. We’ve got a wedding to plan,” Annie said with a watery smile.

“Yes we do,” I smiled back.

I spent the remainder of that weekend feeling miserable and depressed and unable to do much of anything. Brian tried to cheer me up as best he could, suggesting anything that he thought might make me happy, from going for a drive to shopping for wedding things, but it was no use. The cold reality had finally hit me that my days with Brian were numbered, and I could barely get out of bed, let alone actually leave the flat.

Soon I was forced to face the facts though, when I knew that I had to start making plans for my transition back to America. There was so much that had to be done. I had to give myself plenty of time to get settled back in once I’d returned to the States. I would be staying with my parents for a little while, but I had to find a place to live near Stanford once again, which meant trips to the Bay Area looking at apartments. Once I found someplace, I would then have to pack up all of my things in Fresno, and move them back up to Palo Alto, which would take time and probably multiple trips. Then, of course, there was also the task of getting Roger settled into the flat with Brian before I ever left. Time was running short to get so many things accomplished.

I set the date of my departure for Saturday, July 7th, the day after Queen’s first single, _Keep Yourself Alive,_ would be released, as we soon found out. I couldn’t believe that I was going to be leaving right when Queen was on the brink of success. It did nothing but add insult to injury. It killed me to think that Brian would have so many reasons to celebrate in the near future, and instead of being there to hug him and kiss him and congratulate him, I would be stuck half a world away in a place that I didn’t want to be in.

With my plane tickets in hand, I began packing up the things that I couldn’t live without once I was back in the States and shipping them to my parents house in Fresno so that they would be there when I arrived. Clothes, pictures, the little Camaro model that Brian had made me - in it all went. I even made sure that the locket that Brian had given me was filled and ready to see me through my lonely nights as well. Just as I’d said that I would do, I cut out a small picture of Brian to put in one side, and a perfect little curl from his hair for the other. Having a tiny piece of Brian to carry around with me while I was away from him made me feel better, if only a little, and there was no way from that point forward that that locket was going to leave my neck.

Brian had been trying so hard to hold it together for both of our sakes the entire time that I’d been making my plans to leave, but one afternoon as I was packing up yet another box of clothes to ship off to Fresno, I noticed Brian beginning to tear up as he sat on the bed and watched me fold my Simonian Farms t-shirt to put in the box. It was the shirt I’d worn the first night that Brian and I had spent in each other’s arms, and just the sight of it brought an instant flood of memories and emotions. We wound up in each other’s arms, sobbing uncontrollably, and eventually it was settled that the Simonian Farms shirt would stay in England with Brian.

Over the next couple of weeks, we began to move Roger’s stuff a little at a time into our flat as well. Roger had told his landlord that he would be completely moved out of his place by the end of June, so we had to make sure that he kept his word in order to prevent him from having to pay an extra month’s rent. Our cozy little place was suddenly in complete disarray, as we struggled to find places for all of Roger’s things. Our bookshelves had to be rearranged to make room for Roger’s bookshelves, our dressers had to be moved over to make way for Roger’s dresser, and the biggest difficulty of all was trying to move the living room furniture around in order to accommodate Roger’s small twin bed. It was tricky to say the least, but by the 1st of July, Roger, along with his cat Lola, were permanent residents of our tiny flat. At least until I could come back to England, that was. Admittedly, having Roger around was hardly the way that I’d envisioned my last week with Brian, but he spent so much time at Sam’s place, that we scarcely knew that he was there anyway.

In the end it was decided that we would have a little get together on the night of July 6th to celebrate the release of Queen’s first single, and as a going away party for me. Copies of the band’s new record had been given out to everyone by EMI, and I couldn’t believe that I had an actual Queen record to take to America with me. It was thrilling to see all the guys’ hard work finally come to fruition, and I felt like nothing but a damper on what should have been a monumental occasion.

By the end of the night I’d received massive hugs from everyone, including Mary and Veronica, who actually seemed sad to see me go, much to my surprise. Sam and I hugged and cried, Freddie and I hugged and cried, and then there was Roger. He pulled me into the kitchen while everyone was getting ready to leave to give me a private goodbye.

“So, this is it then?” he asked me quietly, as he absentmindedly ran a finger along my kitchen counter. “You’re really going tomorrow?”

“I’m really going,” I answered, unbidden tears starting to form in my eyes.

Roger’s sad blue eyes locked on mine, and he instantly pulled me into his arms for a warm, loving embrace. He started to sniffle a little as he held me, and knowing that he was crying made me cry even harder.

“I’m going to miss you, you know,” Roger whispered in my ear. “It’s not going to be the same around here without you.”

I was so choked up that I couldn’t respond other than to nod my head slightly.

Roger pulled away, and looked down at me with a watery smile. “Who am I going to pick on if you’re not here?”

“I’m sure you’ll find someone,” I laughed, wiping at my tear stained face. “Now that you’ll be living with Brian, I’m sure you’ll be taking the piss out of him every opportunity you get.”

“Oh yes, endless possibilities there,” Roger agreed thoughtfully with a mischievous grin. He smiled down at me and said, “He’s going to miss you so much you know.”

“I know,” I managed to choke out. “Take care of him for me Roger, please. Make sure that he eats, and try to keep his mind off of things.”

“I will,” Roger replied, running a hand over my arm affectionately. “I, um, I’m staying at Sam’s tonight, so that you and Brian can spend your last night alone, so, I guess I won’t be seeing you again before you leave.”

I nodded and looked down at the floor as a fresh round of tears filled my eyes.

“You behave yourself in America, you hear?” Roger smiled, tilting my chin up so that I was forced to look at him. “I don’t want to find out that you’ve been having drunken escapades or wild orgies or anything.”

“I think those are probably more likely the kinds of things you would do, not me,” I laughed.

“That’s true,” Roger agreed. “But take care of yourself, okay?”

“I will,” I replied.

I said one last goodbye to everyone as they left, and then it was just Brian and me, all alone on our last night together for God only knew how long. We could have gone straight to bed and made wild passionate love to each other, but instead, we sat on the couch and just held each other, breathing in each other’s scents, feeling the warmth of each other’s bodies, listening to the sounds of one another’s heartbeats one last time, before finally falling into a restless sleep in each other’s arms.

When morning came, I woke up on the couch to find Brian lying next to me. He was propped up on one elbow and studying my face, as if trying to imprint my features into his mind before I had to go. Reluctantly, I got up and showered and dressed, feeling as though I was a prisoner preparing myself to be led to the gallows. I got my last minute things together and gave little Harold a big hug and kiss, telling him that I’d see him soon. I reached down to give Roger’s cat Lola a quick pet, and I remembered something that I’d been meaning to do before I left. 

I went to the bedroom closet, and took out one of the only things I had left that I hadn’t either packed or shipped to Fresno – my brown corduroy hat. Brian watched curiously as I left it on Roger’s bed with a note on top that said “To Roger with Love”.

I gave the flat one last look, and Brian and I were out the door, heading for Heathrow Airport.

I felt as though I was walking in a dream, a very bad dream, as I dropped off my luggage at baggage claim, and meandered through the airport with Brian until we found the gate that I’d be leaving from.

“So, you’ve got everything, right?” Brian asked me. “Your tickets, your passport…”

“Yeah, it’s all right here,” I said, motioning toward my carry-on bag.

“I, um, I’ve got something for you,” Brian said, handing me a cardboard box held together with tape and ribbon. I’d noticed him taking it from our bedroom closet before we got ready to leave, but I didn’t want to say anything about it until he was ready to share it with me. “Don’t open it until you get to the States. It’s just a few things that I put together to help you think of me while you’re gone.”

“Do you honestly think for one second that there will be a single moment while I’m gone that I _won’t_ be thinking about you?” I asked, tears filing my eyes.

Brian started to cry as well, and pulled me into his arms for a long, tight embrace.

“I love you so much,” he said, resting his head on top of mine. “The only thing that’s going to keep me going is knowing that you’re going to come back to me.”

“I know,” I said, my face pressed against his chest. “Me too.”

“You’re going to call me the second you arrive, right?” Brian asked.

“I will. I promise,” I said. “And you’re going to take care of yourself while I’m gone, right? I want you to promise me that you’re going to eat and get plenty of sleep, okay? I don’t want to have to worry about you getting sick.”

“I will. I promise,” Brian said. “I’m going to write to you everyday, you know. And I’m going to call you as often as I can.”

“I’m going to do the same, believe me,” I said. The reality that I wouldn’t have Brian around just to talk over daily events with was suddenly starting to hit home, and I could barely talk through my tears, as I said, “I don’t know what I’m going to do without having you to talk to…”

“Shh,” Brian said, smoothing my hair with his hand. “We’re going to get through this. I promise you.”

Soon enough, the announcement was being made over the PA system that Pan Am flight 183 to San Francisco was about to board.

“That’s me I’m afraid,” I said, pulling reluctantly away from Brian.

“I love you Mrs. May,” Brian said, cupping my face in both hands.

“I love you Mr. May,” I replied.

We shared several salty tear-filled kisses, and then that was it, it was time for me to go. Brian walked me to the door and stood at the window, watching as I boarded the plane. I turned at the top of the stairs and waved one last time, wondering when on earth I would ever see him again.


	69. Chapter 69

“And if you’ll just follow me, the bedroom is right this way…”

I did as the lady asked, with my dad practically nipping at my heels, and followed the stout elderly woman down the short hallway that separated the living room and bedroom of the small single bedroom apartment. My dad had done me the honor of taking a Friday off of work so that he could drive me up to the Stanford area and help me find a place to live. After I’d been lying in my old bed at my parent’s house for several days, wallowing in self-pity and crying until my eyes were swollen, I supposed that my dad thought it was best for me to get out of the house and be productive. Of course, I had no desire whatsoever to drag myself out of bed and do much of anything really, but I went for the drive with my dad anyway, knowing that if I didn’t find someplace to reside eventually, that my home was liable to be a cardboard box out in Stanford’s parking lot.

“So, what do you think pumpkin?” my dad asked over my shoulder as we both peered through the doorway of the one tiny bedroom the place had to offer. “It’s not too bad.”

“I don’t like it,” I said flatly. “It feels dark and gloomy, and it smells musty, like an old house that hasn’t been thoroughly cleaned in a long time.”

The woman showing us the place was clearly affronted.

“This complex was only built in 1954,” she said proudly. “This apartment isn’t even twenty years old.”

I instantly felt bad about my churlish comments as I walked further into the bedroom and continued to look around the place. After all, it wasn’t the apartment’s fault that I was in a dreary mood. The place did have a few merits, I supposed. The outside, for instance, was lovely. The building almost had an old world Spanish mission feel to it, with beige stuccoed walls and a red tiled roof. Even the gardens, I noticed, had large lovely trees and flowering bushes that would be pleasant enough to look at everyday. And the inside of the apartment itself, once I gave it a fairer shake, wasn’t all that bad really. It was a little cramped, but it did have nice hardwood floors that I sort of liked.

No, the problem wasn’t really the apartment. Not completely anyway. The real problem was that it was noon California time, and I knew that back home in London it was 8:00 pm and that the guys were just beginning their concert that night at Mary College. Add to that the fact that their first album, entitled simply _Queen,_ had also been released that same day in the UK, and I was thrown into a deep state of depression that I simply couldn’t be pulled out of. My heart and soul were with Brian, wondering how things were going for him. I was hoping that the band’s sound check had gone all right, that the lighting was all working properly, and that their equipment wasn’t giving them any problems. I was worried that Brian might have forgotten to pack something to take to the show. I knew how forgetful he was, and without me at home to help him remember things…

“So?” my dad asked, breaking me out of my reverie. “Yes or no?”

“I don’t know,” I said evasively. “Something about the place just doesn’t feel right.”

My dad sighed and gave me a slightly irritated look. I knew that he knew that it was likely going to be a very long day with me in the mood that I was in.

“All right,” he said. “Well, we’ve got one more place to look at.”

“Let me give you my card,” the elderly lady said, instantly brandishing a stiff bit of paper from her pocket and handing it to my dad. “Just in case you change your mind.”

I wasn’t the least bit sorry to leave the place. Solemn mood or not, the apartment did feel gloomy I decided once and for all.

The next place we were to look at was just down the street and around the corner. With it being so close in proximity to the gloomy apartment I wasn’t really expecting much, but I realized once we’d arrived that the difference was like night and day. While the other complex had felt old and cramped and dark, the second place felt light and airy and much more modern. It was large, with three floors of apartments and extensive grounds, boasting two swimming pools, large leafy trees with wooden benches underneath, and a very pretty water fountain in the center of the courtyard.

“Good afternoon!” said a very friendly guy, who didn’t seem much older than me, as we walked into the rental office. He stood up from behind his plain metal desk, and walked toward my dad and me with a broad smile on his face and an outstretched hand.

“Good afternoon!” my dad said in return in his normal booming voice as he shook the guy’s hand. “We called yesterday and said we’d be coming up from Fresno to look at an apartment.”

“Right!” the guy said, the memory of the phone call in question clearly popping into his head. “Last name of Martin, right?”

“That’s us,” my dad replied.

“Okay, no problem,” the guy said, bustling back across the room to his top desk drawer, where he procured a small key and a stack of papers. He shut the drawer with a snap and said, “Follow me.”

We trailed behind him through the labyrinth of pathways that crisscrossed through the complex, eventually ending up at apartment number 210 on the second floor. The guy unlocked the front door and bade us inside with a smile, which I returned as I walked past him into the apartment. Something seemed vaguely familiar about him as I took in his features. I wasn’t sure whether I knew him or not, but it occurred to me that something about him reminded me a little of Brian. He didn’t have Brian’s mane of curls, but he was tall and thin with dark hair and kind eyes, that upon closer inspection, were in fact green and not hazel.

I shook myself mentally and told myself that I was being ridiculous, because the more that I actually looked at him, the more I realized that he didn’t look all that much like Brian at all, that perhaps it was his warm friendly smile or just his manner that reminded me of my fiancé so far away. More than likely though, it was just me, missing the man that I loved so desperately that I was seeking out his familiar face anywhere that I could.

“It’s Carrie, right?” the guy asked me as I passed, completely taking me aback.

“Yeah,” I replied with a slight scowl. “Do I know you?”

“I’m Mark. Mark Henderson,” the guy said with a smile as he shut the front door behind us. “We had a couple of history classes together at Stanford. You must be a grad student by now.”

“I am,” I said, still trying to place his face. I felt sort of bad, and said, “I’m sorry if I…”

“Don’t remember me?” he supplied with a jovial grin. “It’s okay. You were pretty focused on your studies if I remember correctly. Hell bent on doing some grad work in England, weren’t you?”

“Wow! You really do remember me!” I laughed. “Um, yeah, I’ve been at Kings College in London for the past year and a half. I’m just back at Stanford for one last semester to finish up my thesis and earn my master’s degree.”

“Cool,” he said with a smile and nod. “I’m still doing my grad work too. I’m working on my masters in history with an emphasis on the American Colonial period. How about you? What area are you specializing in?”

“19th century British history,” I answered. “So I take it you work here as well?”

“When I’m not sitting in Stanford’s library with my nose buried in a book,” he laughed.

“Oh, I understand completely,” I smiled. “I’m sure we’ll probably be seeing a lot of each other in that library!”

“I hope so,” Mark said thoughtfully. “That would be nice.”

My heart sank into the pit of my stomach, and I had a bad feeling that Mark had taken my friendliness as flirting, which had not been my intention at all. I chastised myself mentally for not thinking first before opening my mouth, and looked away from Mark’s penetrating gaze as things instantly became awkward.

“Well, feel free to look around,” he said at last, motioning his hand toward the empty space surrounding us. “This is the actual apartment you’d be living in if you decide to move in. Most of the appliances are new, and even the carpet has recently been replaced.”

I began looking at the place in earnest, and had a much better feeling about it than I had the previous apartment we’d looked at. It felt lighter and smelled newer and fresher. The front door immediately opened into the living room, and just off of the living room was a sliding glass door that led out onto a wooden balcony that overlooked the gardens. The kitchen and dining area were relatively small, but the bedroom was roomy and the bathroom was nice, and there was plenty of room for all of my books and pictures and knick-knacks in the living room. If I had to find a place to live in other than my beloved flat back in London, then I supposed that I couldn’t do much worse. And the best part was that it was near the older parts of Palo Alto, which I liked, and it was only a couple of miles from Stanford.

“I like this place,” I said at last. “I think I’ll take it.”

“Great!” Mark exclaimed. “I’ve got all the paperwork right here, so let’s go ahead and fill it out!”

Soon the mountain of papers were filled in and signed, the apartment was inspected for any imperfections, and the first month’s rent and deposit were laid down. Despite my somber mood, I was happy at least that one major hurdle had been crossed. I now had a place to live once again. I was quiet and reflective all the way back to Fresno though, nodding absentmindedly every time my dad said something to me, as my thoughts drifted to the guy’s concert, hoping with all my heart that things had gone well. I needed to hear Brian’s voice I decided, and determined that I would call him as soon as we got back to my parent’s house no matter how late it was.

My dad drove so slowly that it seemed to take forever to get back from the Bay Area, especially since he insisted that we stop for lunch. I purposefully didn’t eat much so that we could get back on the road as quickly as possible. As soon as we walked through the door of my parent’s house I said a quick hello to my mom and then sequestered myself away in my old bedroom, the smiling faces of my favorite old pop bands smiling down at me from my posters, as I picked up the phone and dialed the seemingly infinite amount of numbers that it took to reach England.

“Hello?” I heard on the other end of the phone, and instantly my spirits lifted.

“Hey you,” I said.

“Hey yourself!” Brian said cheerfully into the phone. “I was hoping you’d call tonight! What have you been up to today?”

“Looking at apartments up in Palo Alto,” I replied.

“Yeah?” Brian said. “How did it go?”

“Pretty good,” I told him. “I found a decent place not far from Stanford. I’ve got an address to give you in fact. Do you have a pen and paper?”

“One second…” Brian mumbled, and I could hear him fumbling with the pen and tablet that we always kept near the phone. “Right, go on then.”

“It’s 3375 Alma Street, apartment 210, Palo Alto, California,” I said.

“Got it,” Brian replied. “And I write that out the same way that I write your parents’ address, right?”

“Yep, exactly the same way,” I said. “So how did your show go tonight?”

“Not bad,” Brian answered. “We played to a relatively large crowd tonight. Harris had a bit of trouble with the soundboard, but other than that things went well. We’ve got another show scheduled for the 23rd at the Marquee again, and of course, the album came out today, so overall it’s been a pretty exciting day. I just wish you were here to share it with me.”

“Me too,” I said quietly, trying my hardest not to tear up.

“I can’t believe how different you sound already,” Brian laughed.

“I sound different?” I asked.

“Yeah, your accent is full on American again,” Brian said.

“Well, that’s interesting, because according to my parents I still sound English,” I laughed.

“I miss you, you know,” Brian said sincerely. “It’s not the same around here without you. And you’re missing all the excitement with these bloody cats!”

“Why? What’s going on with the cats?”

“Well, let’s put it this way,” Brian began. “Our little Harold has been trying to become a little too familiar with his sister Lola.”

“Oh no! Is she in heat?” I asked.

“Apparently so,” Brian answered. “She won’t shut the hell up, I know that, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to have a litter of inbred babies roaming around the flat!”

I started laughing so hard that I actually snorted.

“So what are you going to do? You’d better get one of them in to be spayed or neutered!” I exclaimed.

“Yeah, I think we’re going to take both of them in. Roger’s mum has offered to pay for his cat, and I think I can scrape up enough money to pay for Harold.”

“Aw, my poor baby,” I said. “Make sure you give him an extra hug from me after his whole ordeal is over with.”

“I will,” Brian laughed. “He misses you, you know. I just took some photos of him today to send to you.”

“Oh, good!” I smiled. “I can’t wait to see them! So, how are things working out with Roger?”

“Um, okay I guess,” Brian replied a little hesitantly. “We got into a row over him drinking the last of the beer today, but I’m glad that I’m not here all alone anyway. Having him here to talk to keeps my mind occupied. I think I’d run mad from missing you otherwise. Oh, and Sam is here a lot of the time too. She’s always telling me to tell you hello.”

“Oh, well tell her I say hi!”

“I will,” Brian said. “She and Roger just stepped out to get more beer, but they should be back soon. I’m sure she’ll probably spend the night again.”

“Spend the night?” I asked, slightly taken aback.

“Yeah, well, Roger seems to think that he needs to stay here to keep an eye on me, but of course, he can’t go very long without female company you know…”

“I see…” I said with a slight nod. “So basically they’re having sex out in the living room in his bed while you’re stuck all alone in our room.”

“Pretty much,” Brian replied. “I know that they’re trying to keep quiet and all, but still, it’s hard with you so far away.”

“Tell me about it,” I said. “I don’t know how either of us is going to survive without sex.”

“Well, all I have to say is that you’d better find a job quickly after you’ve gotten your degree, and that you’d better be prepared to not get much sleep for a while once you’re back in England!”

“I think I can live with that,” I laughed. “In the meantime, I suppose you’re going to have to become better acquainted with your right hand?”

“I already have, believe me.”

“Ooh, naughty boy,” I teased. “Maybe we should talk on the phone one of these days when you and your right hand are getting more familiar with each other so that I can talk dirty to you.”

“Shit…” Brian grumbled. 

“What?” I asked.

“I’ve got a massive erection now just thinking about you talking dirty to me, and Roger and Sam will be back at any moment!”

I clutched at my sides laughing until tears were streaming from my eyes.

“It’s not funny you cheeky little minx!” Brian exclaimed. “See what you do to me?”

“I know what I’d like to be doing to you…”

“No, do not get started! I think I can hear them coming up the stairs…”

“Well, I’ll let you go then so that you can go hide in the bathroom or something,” I grinned. “I really just wanted to call to see how your concert went.”

“Well, I’m glad you did. I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

“I love you Mr. May.”

“I love you Mrs. May.”

“I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Okay, love you! Bye!”

I hung up the phone and smiled a bittersweet smile to myself. As wonderful as it was to hear Brian’s voice, it killed me to know that life was still going on just as it always had in London, only I was no longer there to share it. I found myself wondering how long it would take before the searing pain in my chest went away, or if it would ever go away.

I spotted the cardboard box that Brian had given me at the airport before I left sitting on my old dresser, and got up off of my bed just long enough to reach for it. I hadn’t opened it yet, because I wasn’t sure that I could handle the emotions that would be tied to whatever was inside so soon after leaving, but after hearing Brian’s voice, it suddenly felt right somehow. I tugged at the pink ribbon that Brian had wrapped around the box, broke open the clear tape holding it shut, and popped open the lid. Inside was a cassette tape in a plastic case, a small photo album, two framed objects, and a letter with “To Mrs. May” scribbled across the front of the envelope in Brian’s tidy handwriting. I looked at the framed objects first, and saw that one frame held an enlarged copy of the first picture that Brian and I had ever had taken of ourselves, standing outside of St. Nicholas’ Church in Steventon. The other frame contained something I’d never actually seen before – a sheet of white paper with what appeared to be Brian’s original handwritten lyrics for the song he’d written for me, _Some Day One Day._ He’d made me my own copy of the lyrics after our trip to Hampshire, which I still had and treasured, but these lyrics seemed to be the original ones he’d actually scrawled down when he laid in bed after our trip, heartbroken over the thought of losing me, complete with the occasional scratched out line or corrected word. I decided that it might be best to open up the letter and read Brian’s explanation of everything he’d given me before I went any further.

_My Dear Mrs. May,_

_If you’re reading this, then that means you’re in California now, and that I’m missing you terribly. I put together this little going away package for you so that you might think of me from time to time while you’re so far away. I framed my original lyrics to your song and a copy of our first picture together as a house-warming present for your new place, whenever you get one. It’s not much, I know, but I thought it might feel like a little piece of home for you. I also made you a tape of my wretched voice and guitar, singing some of your favorite songs for you. I haven’t listened to it myself, so if it sounds awful, then feel free to chuck it in the bin. And lastly, I made you a photo album. Now, I know that you already took stacks and stacks of pictures with you to America, but these are my particular favorites that we’ve taken of each other over the last year or so, so I thought I’d share them with you._

_I wish so much that I was there with you. It doesn’t seem right that I’m going to be your husband one day soon, and I’m not even there to help you move into your new home. I hope that your mum and dad are helping you get settled. I’ll be thinking of you constantly and hoping that you’re all right. I hope you’ve got a place picked out in your new flat for the mountains of letters I’ll be sending you, because I mean to write to you everyday, even if it’s just a short letter to let you know that I’m still alive. I know the news will be old and outdated by the time it reaches you, but I suppose it’s better than nothing for now. Please write to me as often as you can, and call me as often as you can, so I know that you’re okay. There won’t be a single moment while you’re away that you won’t be on my mind. Thoughts of our future together are the only thing that’s keeping me sane right now. I love you so much._

_I know that you’re probably very busy with loads of things to do, so I’ll leave this here. I’m looking forward to hearing from you soon!_

_Lots of Love Always,_

_Your Mr. May_

By the time I finished reading the letter, tears were already streaming from my eyes. If it was going to be like this every time that I read one of his letters, then my eyes were going to swell completely shut in a matter of days! My body literally ached from missing him so badly. I thought I knew what love was before I met Brian, but I didn’t. The kind of love that I felt for him was different than the kind of love I’d ever felt for anybody else in my entire life. It was as if my very survival depended on him, and being away from him for so long was going to be a serious test of how strong a person I truly was.

I swiped at my eyes, and got up from my bed, heading out my bedroom door.

“Mom!” I called out, as I made my way down the hallway. “Don’t you have one of those portable cassette players around here somewhere?”

I was forced to dig around a bit in the bottom of a closet, but I finally found the tape player I was looking for. I took it back to my room, plugged it in, and flopped across my bed with a tablet of paper and a pen as I listened eagerly to Brian’s tape. Just as I’d suspected, the first song he played for me was our song, _Some Day One Day,_ after that, he strummed out a few Beatles tunes for me, including _Here, There & Everywhere, Yesterday,_ and _Blackbird._ As I listened to the soothing sound of his voice and guitar, I began to pen a letter back to him…

_July 13, 1973_

_My Dearest Mr. May,_

_I just got off of the phone with you not long ago, and it was so wonderful to hear your voice. I finally opened the package you gave me at the airport, and I love everything inside! I’m listening to your beautiful voice singing to me as we speak, and if you think for one second that I would “chuck your tape in the bin” as you say, then you’re crazy!_

_It occurred to me that I forgot to tell you when I’d be moving into my new apartment. Well, the answer is soon, probably within the week. Of course, by the time you get this that will be old news. Regardless, if you’re still sending letters to my parent’s house, you can start sending them to my new address when you get this letter. I’ll be sure to take some pictures to send you as soon as I’m settled in so that you can see what the place looks like. It’s not much really, just a tiny one-bedroom apartment, but it does have a pretty balcony where it might be nice to sit and read your letters from time to time - that is, until I’m back at Stanford next month where I can sit in my special spot behind the history department and read your letters, just like I promised when you were in the States with me._

_I’m so sad that I wasn’t in England for your concert at Mary College tonight, and I haven’t even seen Queen’s first album yet! I suppose it won’t be released in the States for a while? I’m very anxious to hold a copy in my hands and get to play it! I can’t believe that my fiancé is soon going to be a world-renowned rock star! Oh, and if you get this before Queen’s upcoming Marquee gig, then knock ‘em dead!!_

_I love you so much. I know you’re probably going to get sick of hearing me say that, but I can’t help it. I miss you so much that it hurts. I hope you’re eating and sleeping like you promised. Please keep me up-to-date of everything that’s going on at home! Your letters are going to be the one bright spot in my daily routine, so please keep them coming!_

_Give Harold a hug for me, and I’ll write again soon! I love you!_

_Yours Always and Forever,_

_Mrs. May_

I mailed the letter the following day, and decided that I needed to begin the arduous task of getting everything packed up to take with me to my new digs in Palo Alto. Keeping myself busy was now going to be my top priority. An idle mind is the devil’s playground, as the old saying goes, so I was determined, therefore, not to be idle. 

Pretty much everything that meant anything to me from my life with Brian in England was already sitting in my parents’ house in the boxes that I’d shipped it all in – no packing required there thankfully. I still had clothes and things that had to be packed up, but there wasn’t much. All of my furnishings and kitchenware from my last apartment that I’d lived in before leaving for England were wrapped in plastic or boxed up and stored away in my parents’ garage right where I’d left it all a year and a half before. I hadn’t seen the stuff in ages, not even when I’d visited with Brian, so I decided that I’d better make sure that everything was still in one piece. I trudged out to the garage, and there it all was – my couch, chairs, kitchen table, bed, dresser, bookshelves and more – still piled up in one massive stack. I’d almost forgotten what everything looked like to be honest.

My dad decided that the best thing would be to rent a large truck to haul everything in all at once instead of making multiple trips, so I left it to his discretion. I, meanwhile, went through all the stuff left in my old bedroom, weeding out the things that I wanted to take with me. I listened to Brian’s tape as I packed up my last minute things and pulled down a few of my Beatles posters to take with me as well, and soon everything was ready to go. 

We rented the truck for the weekend of July 21st and 22nd, and I helped to load it as much as I could, but most of the heavy lifting had to be left in my dad’s care. Since I knew that Brian would want to be kept informed of my comings and goings, I took a few pictures of the packing process to send in with one of my next letters, hoping that the sight of plastic wrapped furniture being loaded into a large truck wouldn’t bore him to tears!

Soon everything was packed and ready, and it was time for the long drive up to the Bay Area with my dad in the truck and me following behind in my Camaro. I said goodbye to my mom and all the cats and dogs, and we were on our way.

My dad drove slowly even at the best of times, but being forced to drive my car behind a large, lumbering truck with my dad behind the wheel was absolute hell! We made it eventually though, and somehow it seemed like unloading the truck took far less time than loading it had. Before long my bedroom was completely set up with my double sized bed, nightstands and dresser, and my living room was replete with couch, coffee table, chairs, bookcases, TV and stereo. My tiny kitchen table and chairs were next, along with mountains of boxes filled with pots, pans, dishes and more. I had a long, tiresome task ahead of me getting it all sorted out, but I was thankful at least, that it gave me something to focus my energies on. Still, I couldn’t help but think of Brian with everything that I did. Every time that I unpacked something that I’d had since before I left for England, my first thought was always, “Oh, Brian hasn’t seen this! I bet he’d like this!” Or if I put something away that I’d shipped over from London, I felt my chest tighten with a vise-like grip around my heart, thinking of Brian back home at our flat, going through his daily routines without me. I came to the realization that whether I was busy or not, my mind was always going to be a devil’s playground where thoughts of Brian were concerned, and I just hoped that eventually I would learn how to cope with the pain of not having him around.


	70. Chapter 70

_9 August, 1973_

_My Dear Mrs. May,_

_I hope this letter finds you well as always. It’s 10:00 pm here in London as I’m writing this, and can you believe that I’m already tired? We shot the video clips today that I was telling you about for the songs_ Keep Yourself Alive _and_ Liar. _It was exhausting I’ve got to say. I had no idea how much time it would take to film us miming to two bloody songs. You would have thought that the crew was making an Oscar worthy film as meticulous as they were, and even then, we still weren’t happy with the outcome when they played the footage back for us! The best part of the whole day though, was when Freddie turned up at the studio with his chest completely shaved for the occasion! I was so wishing that you’d been here to take the piss out of him like I know you would have! We all had a pretty good laugh over the whole thing, and Roger, of course, gave Freddie hell over it._

_We’re back in the studio again soon you’ll be interested to know, to work on our next album. Thankfully this time we won’t have to go in during the middle of the night! They’ve actually got real studio time booked for us at Trident. Can you believe it? We finished up rehearsing our new material at Shepperton Studios a couple days ago, and I’ve got to say, our new songs are really coming along. My song_ White Queen _is going to be part of the whole lot, and since Freddie’s written a song called_ March of The Black Queen, _he’s got this idea in his head that we should have a black side and a white side to the album, instead of sides A and B. I kind of like the idea, though I suppose this means that I’m the saintly “white” guy and Freddie is the dangerous “black” guy. Not sure how I feel about that. Thoughts? You will be pleased to know that we’ve recently been rehearsing your song_ Some Day One Day _as well, and that it too will be on the album._

_I don’t know if you’ll have started school or not by the time this reaches you, but if you have, then I hope that things are going well. I hope that you’re adjusting better than I am to our life apart from one another. You’ve been gone a month, yet still, every time I walk through the door, I expect for you to be in the flat, waiting to greet me with that big beautiful smile of yours. I thought that time would start to heal the pain of missing you, but so far, it seems to only be getting worse. I can’t wait until you’re finished with school and back in my arms._

_Well, I suppose I should be heading off to bed. We’ve got another big day tomorrow as Trident has hired a photographer to take some new promo photos of the band in Freddie’s flat. Freddie has instructed all of us to wear black. Perhaps I’ll wear red just to be contrary. Ha ha! When we get some copies of the photos I’ll send you some. In the meantime, I’m enclosing some pictures that I took of the fellas and me at Shepperton Studios a few days ago while we were rehearsing. Sorry if I look a bit scruffy. After our Newcastle show on the 3rd, I decided to be lazy and not shave for a few days._

_Okay, well, I really will end this here now and head off to bed. I love you and miss you more than I can say. Please keep the letters coming, and call me when you can._

_I love you!!_

_Yours Forever,_

_Mr. May_

_xxx_

I sat on my little bench behind the history department as I read Brian’s letter, my heart aching over the fact that he was still hurting as badly as I was. Despite the fact that it had been my first day back at school, and that I was keeping myself as busy as humanly possible, I still found it difficult to keep my mind off of Brian. I found myself constantly watching the clock, whether I was at home or somewhere else, and calculating in my head what time it was in London so that I might have some idea of what Brian was doing in that exact moment. His letters and my daydreams seemed to be the only things keeping me going.

I looked through the pictures that Brian had sent me along with the letter, and couldn’t help but smile. Freddie and Roger were up to their usual hijinks, making silly faces and posing for the camera, and John was his normal quiet self, sitting on an amplifier and smiling shyly at the camera, as he held tight to the bass guitar sitting in his lap. It was good to know that some things never change.

There were only a couple pictures of Brian, probably taken by Roger or Freddie for my behalf, and he was looking gorgeous as always. I recognized his blue button-down shirt and plaid pants immediately, as he smiled sweetly for the camera, holding on to his beloved Red Special. The scruffy beard that he’d described only make him look that much sexier, and I found myself wishing that I could have been home to kiss him and run my fingers through his hair while he’d been looking so delectable.

My mind was wandering on to the other things that I would have liked to have done with him while he had the scruffy beard, when a voice broke me out of my reverie.

“Hey Carrie! I thought that was you hiding among the trees and bushes back here!”

I looked up to find Mark peering at me around the leafy branches of the tree I was sitting in the shadow of.

“Oh, hi Mark!” I smiled, laying my letter and pictures on my lap.

“What are you up to?” he asked with a warm smile. “Mind if I sit down?”

“Oh, no, that’s fine,” I said, scooting over a little to make room. It wasn’t fine really, since I sort of liked to think of my little bench area as being my own private sanctuary, but what could I say?

“You seemed deep in thought when I spotted you,” Mark said, as he took a seat next to me.

“I was reading my fiancé’s latest letter to me,” I replied.

“Fiancé?” Mark asked, looking slightly taken aback. “I didn’t know you were engaged.”

“Yeah,” I smiled. “He’s back in England waiting for me to finish school.”

“Really? So who is this lucky guy?” Mark grinned at me.

“Um, his name is Brian,” I answered, handing Mark the latest pictures that Brian had sent me. “He’s the guitarist in a rock band called Queen.”

“Wow,” Mark said, sounding moderately impressed. He pointed at the picture of Brian on the top of the stack and added, “This guy here?”

“Yep, that’s him,” I smiled.

“He’s got a lot of hair,” Mark said after a bit of thought.

“Yes, he does,” I laughed.

“Are these the rest of his band mates?” Mark asked, leafing through the rest of the pictures.

“Yes,” I said, and told him each of their names as he came across pictures of them.

“So, have they done any music that I would know?” 

“Not yet, but soon,” I told him, taking the photos back and puffing my chest up proudly.

“You know, I’m glad I caught you,” Mark said, as I stuffed my letter and pictures back inside their envelope. “Cindy is going to be throwing a party this Friday to celebrate the beginning of the fall semester, and I was hoping you might come.”

The Cindy he was describing was in fact my overly blonde and overly perky next-door neighbor. She was your archetypal California girl, who seemed to have more beauty than brains, and giggled a little too much for my personal sanity. I supposed that she was nice overall, but when one spent a good portion of their time feeling depressed and lovelorn, the last thing that that person needed was a bouncy, babbling, bubbly blonde trying to make them feel better. And a party, I thought, might send me over the edge all together.

“Um, I may not be in town,” I said, trying to come up with an excuse as quickly as possible. “I was thinking of going down to visit my parents in Fresno this weekend.”

“Oh,” said Mark, sounding a little disappointed. “Well, the offer still stands if you change your mind.”

“Thanks, I’ll definitely think about it,” I smiled. “Well, I’d better get home I guess so that I can write back to this guy of mine.”

“Yeah, of course,” Mark smiled back. “I’ll see you around then!”

I said my goodbyes, walked out to my car and made my way home. As I unlocked the front door and stepped inside my little apartment, I was grateful for the quiet and solitude that greeted me. I tossed my purse and book bag on my couch and realized as I looked around what a mess my place was. Take out cartons and dirty dishes littering the coffee table, books piled on the couch, and a month’s worth of dust accumulating on nearly every conceivable surface. It reminded me of my flat back in England before Roger and I had started dating, and I couldn’t help but smile a little to myself over the memory. Still, it didn’t do to be a complete pig, so I decided that I would make an effort and clean the place up that night. First, however, I would pen a letter back to my beloved Brian.

I gathered up my favorite tablet of paper and pen, switched on the TV to provide a little background noise, and sat down on what little space was left on my couch, as I leaned over my coffee table and wrote…

_August 20, 1973_

_My Dearest Mr. May,_

_I hope you’re doing well. I received your letter today with the pictures from Shepperton Studio, and I love them!! No need whatsoever to apologize for looking scruffy, because, as I think you know, I like it when you look scruffy. In fact, my mind immediately started wandering as I looked at the pictures of you, wishing I had been home while you had the scruffy beard so that I could have kissed you, and maybe done a few others things as well…_

_You asked about my first day at school, and it was today, as a matter of fact. Things went pretty well, although, one of my professors seems like he’s going to be a bit of a hard ass, so I’m a little worried about working with him. His name is Professor James, and he’s old and cranky with thick glasses and a bushy beard, so if I mention him in any future letters, you’ll know whom I’m talking about. The other professor that I’m working with is named Professor Matthews, and he’s younger and more down to earth, and just seems like an all around nicer guy. He’s the one that I’ll mostly be working with on my thesis, so hopefully, once I decide on my topic, everything will work out okay._

_Other than school, life has been pretty boring. My place is a mess, as you can probably imagine, so I’m going to clean it up tonight as I contemplate ideas for my thesis, and I’m currently watching the local news on TV as I’m writing to you. Yawn! I wish that I was back at home with you, going into the studio and watching Freddie make a complete ass out of himself with a shaved chest as you filmed your videos! That sounds like a lot more fun than studying history and eating McDonald’s hamburgers by myself for dinner. I was invited to a party this Friday night by a guy named Mark, but I don’t think I’m going to go. I lied and told him that I was going to visit my parents in Fresno this weekend instead. The more I think about it though, the more I think that I might actually drive down to Fresno. Maybe I’ll look for some potential venues for our California wedding._

_Well, that’s about it on my end, not much going on I’m afraid. Hopefully I’ll have more exciting news to give you in my next letter. Until then, keep smiling, and tell everyone that I send my love. I miss you so, so much. I can’t believe that it’s already been a month and a half since we last saw each other. I really don’t know sometimes how I’ve managed to stay sane through all of this. I love you, I love you, I love you! Take care of yourself!_

_Love Always and Forever,_

_Your Mrs. May xxx_

_P.S. If you see your mom, tell her that I got the letter she sent me with the picture of the wedding dress she saw in London. She seems to be anxious to know what colors we want for the flowers, maid of honor gown, etc. at our English wedding, so tell her that I’ll be writing her soon to discuss it further. Any thoughts on colors? You know how much I love purple, so I was thinking perhaps shades of lavender and white? Let me know what you think the next time we talk. I love you!_

The next couple of weeks dragged by as I became more accustomed to my classes at school and spent a ridiculous amount of time in Stanford’s library trying to come up with a subject for my thesis. I’d been thinking over everything I’d learned both at Stanford and King’s College over the years, and came to the realization that I was fascinated by the relationship that noble landowners in England had with their servants throughout the 19th century. In such a modern era as the 1970s, it seemed hard to imagine a time when anyone was forced to work and live in wretched conditions in the basement of a beautiful home, while the spoiled owners were afforded every luxury above stairs. I knew that it was the duty of every servant to remain as invisible as possible as they went about their daily work, many of them not being allowed out of the servants’ quarters at all because their position was so lowly. It was a subject matter that I found interesting, and decided relatively quickly that the working title of my thesis would be, _Remaining Invisible – The Life of A 19th Century Servant._

I was also very much looking forward to the date of Tuesday, September 4th, because it was the day that Queen’s first album was going to be released in the United States by Elektra. I couldn’t wait until after school to buy it, so early that morning, before my classes started, I drove into downtown Palo Alto to a record shop called World’s Indoor Records that I hadn’t been in for ages. I pulled up in front of the old Victorian house where the place was located, and was thrilled to see that very little had changed since I’d last shopped there. I only hoped that my old buddy, Roy, still owned and operated the shop, because if anyone would know of a newly released British rock album by an unheard of band, it would be Roy.

I pushed open the old wooden door and heard the familiar jingle of the shop’s bell. I hadn’t even fully closed the door behind me when I heard an equally familiar voice calling out my name.

“Carrie! We have to stop running into each other like this!”

I looked across the room, and saw Mark’s face peering at me over a wooden rack of records.

“Hi Mark! You’re out and about early,” I smiled as I shut the door.

“Couldn’t sleep much last night,” Mark shrugged. “So I thought I’d get out and do something before class started.”

I nodded and was about to ask him what records he was shopping for, when another, louder voice called out to me.

“Carrie Martin!” my old buddy Roy exclaimed, his flaming red hair looking as unkempt as ever, as he meandered through an entryway covered with long strands of beads, a large cardboard box clutched in his hands. He set the box down on the counter near the cash register, and wandered over to me, continuing on, “I was beginning to wonder whether or not you were still alive!”

“I’m still alive,” I grinned. “Just been in England for a while. How have you been?”

“Not bad,” Roy answered with a smile. “Busy. Are you back at Stanford?”

“Just for one semester, then I’m finally done,” I said.

“Groovy!” Roy exclaimed. “So what’s your final degree going to be?”

“Master’s in 19th century British history,” I replied.

“That’s some serious academics right there, man,” Roy said with a shake of his head. He turned to Mark and added, “This girl is just too damn smart! I’m tellin’ ya!”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Mark laughed. “I’ve had a couple of history classes with her. She was always at the top of every class.”

I blushed a little and looked down at my feet, trying to avoid Mark’s warm smile.

“So, what brings you by this fine morning my dear?” Roy asked me as he wandered back to the box he’d set on the counter.

“Um, I was actually wondering if you’ve got the new Queen album in,” I said, following right behind him.

“New band, right? Guys from England?” Roy asked, turning to face me.

“Yep, that’s them,” I said, excitement welling up inside my chest over the possibility of finally getting to see the guy’s first album.

“Right over here,” Roy said, leading me across the room to the rock section, right next to where Mark was perusing the latest Pink Floyd albums. Behind the “P” section was a very tiny “Q” section, which Roy dipped his hand down into, pulling out a purplish record with the word “Queen” emblazoned in white at the top left, and a picture of Freddie from the Marquee gig in December on the right. He handed me the record and asked, “Is this it?”

I took the album from him, flipped it over, and immediately started to cry as I recognized the collage of photographs on the back cover that I myself had been part of putting together.

“Whoa, dude,” Roy drawled, reaching into his pockets for a handkerchief that clearly didn’t exist. “It’s always special to buy a new record, but I didn’t think it was something to cry about!”

“She’s engaged to Queen’s guitarist,” Mark supplied, peering over my shoulder.

“No way!” Roy exclaimed.

I just nodded my head vigorously and pointed to the picture of Brian with his beard not long after our camping trip. “See that picture? I took that.”

“Dude! You’re going to be famous around here now!” Roy exclaimed, smacking me lightly on the arm.

“Oh, I doubt that very much,” I laughed, wiping at my nose with the back of my hand.

“Here let me find you a tissue or something…” Roy mumbled, running off in the direction of the beaded archway.

“I had no idea when you told me about his band that they were actually releasing records,” Mark said, still looking at the album over my shoulder.

I turned a little to face him, and said, “Well, this is their first, but they’re already working on their second.” 

I paused for a moment then, as I continued to take in all the familiar pictures on the back cover, and another wave of emotion washed over me. I looked up at Mark with fresh tears in my eyes, and felt like a complete idiot.

“I’m sorry that I’m getting so emotional over this,” I apologized. “It’s just that, I was there when they took most of these pictures. I was there when they recorded these songs.”

Mark held up a silencing hand and said, “You don’t need to apologize to me. You’re engaged to the guitarist for God’s sake! Naturally this means a lot to you.”

I heard the strands of beads rustle and clink together, and soon Roy was at my side brandishing a handful of wadded up toilet paper.

“Sorry,” he said as he held it out to me, “but it’s all I could find.”

I took the toilet paper and tried not to look at it too dubiously, since it obviously came from a bathroom somewhere in the shop that probably only Roy himself used. I smiled and thanked him, and dabbed at my cheeks as sparingly as I could.

“So which one of these guys is your fiancé again?” Roy asked, tilting the record towards himself a little so that he could see it better.

“This guy,” I smiled, pointing proudly at the picture of Brian cut into an oval shape near the upper right corner. “The one with the dark curly hair.”

Roy shook his head and said, “Well, that is just far out little lady! I guess you did more than just go to school in England, huh?”

I couldn’t help but laugh, as I told him, “I definitely got more of an education than I bargained for, that’s for sure!”

“Hey, didn’t some of these guys make another record a few years ago?” Roy asked me, still studying _Queen’s_ back cover. “You know, just a single.”

“You mean Smile?” I asked. “I’m surprised you know about that.”

“Man, you know that I keep track of all the new artists, especially the British ones, and I remembered reading something about this band Queen being a new formation of the old band Smile. In fact…”

Roy moved quickly across the shop toward a clearance bin of 45s where everything was marked down to 25¢. He rifled quickly through the contents and pulled out a record with a bright orange sleeve and the Mercury logo in the top left corner.

“Here it is!” he proclaimed. “I knew I still had a copy around here somewhere.”

I walked across the room to the clearance bin and took the record from him. Lo and behold, he still had an original copy of Smile’s single featuring their songs _Earth_ and _Step On Me._

“I can’t believe that you still have this!” I exclaimed. “This was released four years ago!”

“It’s been sitting here this whole time,” Roy explained. “Nobody’s ever bought it cause they didn’t know who the hell the band was! I remember when it came out though. I listened to it and thought these cats are good! They need to make a whole album! Then nothing ever happened.”

“Well, two of them ended up here,” I smiled, motioning to the Queen album in my other hand. “My fiancé being one of them.”

“That is just too incredible, man!” Roy laughed. “When I think about how quiet and shy you were when you first started coming in here, and now you’re going to be married to a bona fide rock star!”

“I’m still the same person,” I shrugged. “I’ve just had some amazing things happen in my life over the last couple of years.”

I looked down at my watch and realized that it was later than I thought.

“Shoot, I’d better get going Roy,” I said. “My first class starts in 45 minutes. Can you ring up the album and the single please?”

“You betcha little lady,” Roy said, taking both items from me and heading to the register.

“Yeah, I’ve got to get going too,” Mark suddenly piped up, joining me at the register with a copy of _Dark Side of The Moon_ in his hands. He smiled down at me as Roy punched numbers into the cash register, saying, “We missed you at Cindy’s party.” 

“That’s four dollars and ten cents with tax,” Roy told me.

I nodded at him absentmindedly as I reached into my purse for my wallet. I glanced up at Mark as I counted out four one-dollar bills and dug around in my change compartment for a dime. 

“I, um, I did end up going to my mom and dad’s,” I said at last. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it.”

“That’s okay,” Mark shrugged. “Maybe you can make the next one.”

I felt like saying that it wasn’t very likely, but held my tongue, not wanting to seem rude. I paid for the records, and placed them lovingly in between two large textbooks in my book bag so that they wouldn’t get smashed or bent. I said my goodbyes to both Roy and Mark and off I went to school, looking forward to the end of my last class so that I could hurry home and play my baby’s music on my stereo.

When I finally made it home at the end of the day, I checked my mailbox to see if I had any mail, and lo and behold, I had a letter from Brian waiting for me. I practically skipped to my apartment, not knowing whether I wanted to read my letter or play my records first. In the end I decided to read Brian’s letter first, and then I would sit down and give Queen’s album the proper listen to that it deserved.

I flopped down on the couch and tore open the envelope, grinning from ear to ear. My grin instantly turned to a scowl, however, when I noticed that Brian hadn’t addressed me as his Dear Mrs. May the way he always did, I was suddenly just Dear Carrie. My heart sank to my toes, and I panicked, wondering what on earth had brought about such a change. I couldn’t read fast enough as my eyes moved across his handwritten lines.

_27 August, 1973_

_Dear Carrie,_

_I just received your letter dated the 20th of August, and I find myself pacing the floor of our flat. Who, may I ask, is Mark? And why is he asking you out to a party? I’m trying very hard not to be jealous or upset right now, but I have to tell you that something like this worries me. I know you’re a big girl and that you can take care of yourself, but I don’t like the thought of guys hitting on you while you’re living alone so far away from home. I can’t protect you from 5,000 miles away, and the thoughts racing through my head right now are driving me mad! I’ve been worried that something like this might happen. In fact, I even had a horrible dream last night that you were running down the streets of London with somebody chasing after you, and I could hear you calling my name, but I couldn’t find you. Then I read your letter and my heart sank. Please, please call me as soon as you receive this and put my mind at ease. I tried calling you myself just a little while ago, but your phone just rang and I reckon you were at school. I don’t care what time it is when you get this, please just call me._

_I love you._

_Love, Brian_

I dropped the letter into my lap with a mix of emotions coursing through my veins. Without delay, however, I did as Brian asked, and reached for my phone. It was only about 11:00 at night London time, so I was sure that he’d still be up.

The phone rang a few times, then finally I heard a slightly out of breath “Hello?”

“Hi, _Brian,”_ I said in exaggerated tones, mocking Brian’s letter. “It’s _Carrie.”_

“I bloody well know who you are,” Brian replied. “What I want to know is, who the hell is Mark?!”

“He’s a fellow student at Stanford,” I said irritably.

“A fellow student who asked you out on a date?” Brian returned with a definite edge to his voice.

“No, just a fellow student,” I said. “And he didn’t ask me out on a date, he told me that my neighbor was throwing a party to celebrate the start of the fall semester, and asked if I wanted to come.”

“It’s the same thing, babe,” Brian replied. “Trust me, if he was asking you specifically to go to a party with him, then he’s interested in you.”

“Maybe he just wants to be friends!” I argued.

“Not with your looks, believe me,” Brian said.

“So, I guess that’s all I am, huh?” I asked venomously. “Just blonde hair and boobs and whatever?”

“Baby, you know that’s not true, but you’re very pretty, and you’re living all alone over there, and I just don’t trust fellas to do the right thing!”

“Well, can’t you trust _me_ to do the right thing?” I said.

“I do trust you!” Brian railed. “But I also know how guys tend to think! Let me ask you, does this bloke know what classes you’re taking at school?”

“Yeah, I guess…”

“And does he know where you live?”

“Well, yeah, he works here for God’s sake!”

“What do you mean he works there?” Brian demanded.

“He’s one of the managers here at the apartment complex,” I said.

“Oh fucking hell, this is worse than I thought…” Brian mumbled. “Are you telling me that he knows that you live alone, and has access to a key for your apartment?”

“Well… I guess he does…”

“Okay, you have to come home, now!” Brian exclaimed. “Forget school, I don’t bloody care whether you finish or not, just come home where I know that you’re safe!”

“Brian, calm down!” I soothed. “Nothing is going to happen! I swear! I seriously doubt that this guy would jeopardize his job, not to mention his academic career at Stanford, just because of me!”

“I guess… Maybe…” Brian sighed after a moment’s hesitation. “But I don’t like it. Does he know that you’re engaged?”

“Yes, he knows that I’m engaged!” I barked. “In fact, if you’d calm down long enough, I could tell you that I ran into him at my local record store this morning while I was buying a copy of Queen’s first album!”

“You bought our album today?” Brian asked, his tone softening a little. “Did you play it yet?”

“No. I would have, but I had to call my panic stricken fiancé in England, who’s apparently been thinking that I was cheating on him!”

“No,” Brian hastily told me. “I didn’t think you were cheating on me. I was just worried that this guy might be trying things with you, knowing that I’m not there to do anything about it.”

“Look, if it will make you feel better, then I’ll try to avoid him as much as possible, okay?” I said. “I would never agree to go out with him, nor would I put myself in a dangerous predicament that I couldn’t get back out of. In case you hadn’t noticed, not only did I tell him that I couldn’t go to Cindy’s party, but I left town to avoid it all together. Now why don’t we talk about more pleasant things, like the fact that I think I’ve found a place for us to get married here in the States.”

“You did? Where?”

“A church called Millbrook Presbyterian in Fresno,” I answered. “The chapel holds maybe three or four hundred people, and they’ve got a really nice room for receptions.”

“Blimey, we’re not going to have three of four hundred people there, are we?”

“No silly, I’m just trying to tell you that it’s a nice big place, and that their prices are pretty reasonable,” I explained. “I took some pictures while I was down there, but I haven’t finished the roll to get them developed yet. As soon as I do I’ll send you a few shots of the place to see what you think.”

“Okay,” Brian agreed. “Well it sounds nice anyway. If you like it then I’m sure I will. My mother likes your ideas of lavender and white for the colors, by the way. I won’t have to wear anything lavender though, will I?”

“No, maybe just a flower in your lapel,” I answered. “Roger, on the other hand, since he’s going to be your best man, might have to.”

“Ah, well, I’m liking this color scheme better all the time then,” Brian teased. He went quiet for a moment then, before finally saying, “I’m sorry that I got so upset over that Mark fella. I know that you would never do anything to hurt me. Just, please be careful, okay?”

“I will, I promise,” I smiled. “Are we okay now you and I?”

“We’re okay. I love you Mrs. May.”

“I love you too Mr. May.”


	71. Chapter 71

For the next couple of months, I felt a bit like I was standing still while Brian and his band mates were running circles around me. The months of September and October found me doing pretty much the same thing day in and day out with very little variation. I drove down to Fresno once in a while to visit my mom and dad, or I occasionally saw a movie or went shopping, but for the most part, it was just me, all alone with a constant mountain of books as I worked on my thesis. The only good part of having so much down time was that I was able to focus almost completely on my work, and I was happy with the way my paper was turning out.

Meanwhile, 5,000 miles away, Queen was becoming busier than ever. Everyday, news poured in through Brian’s letters and phone calls about something new and exciting that was in store for the band. They’d been informed in late September that the popular band Mott The Hoople was looking for an opening act for their upcoming UK tour, and Queen had been chosen as that act. The guys were beside themselves! They’d only ever done the odd concert here and there, but this was the chance to be part of a real rock ‘n’ roll tour with larger venues and bigger crowds. I couldn’t believe every time I heard the song _All The Young Dudes_ play on the radio that _my_ guys were going to be touring with the band that had created such a huge hit record! It was hard to wrap my brain around how big Queen was starting to become.

The tour was slated to begin on November 12th in Leeds, and would finish off at the legendary Hammersmith Odeon in London on December 14th. It killed me that I wouldn’t be there for a single show, but I was thrilled for the guys just the same. They’d been working steadily on their second album in the meantime, and had it pretty much wrapped up by late October. They had scheduled a few concerts as warm up shows before their big Mott The Hoople tour so that they could practice their new stuff, and the last of these shows on November 2nd at Imperial College was a resounding success. All the tickets had been sold out in advance, and the guys got their first real review the next day in _Disc_ magazine by a lady named Rosemary Horide. Brian sent me a copy of the article, and I couldn’t help but tear up a little as I read the glowing assessment of their show. I’d never felt so proud of my guys in my entire life.

Once the tour with Mott began, I thought that the letters from Brian might lessen, or at least become shorter in length, but no. He still wrote to me everyday, regaling me with crazy stories from the road, and telling me how much he wished that I were there to share it all with him. I wished that I was too if for no other reason than to keep an eye on the masses of female fans that the band was apparently starting to accumulate. When Brian casually told me in one of his letters that some girl had painted his fingernails white and Freddie’s fingernails black backstage at a show (purely in keeping with their new “Black & White” theme of course), I was livid. I knew where the band would be staying on the day that I received the letter, and I called Brian’s hotel room to tell him in no uncertain terms that he was never to let a girl paint his nails again! He explained that Freddie had decided that the nail polish should become a part of their overall “glam” look, which I told him was fine - silly, but fine - as long as it was he himself who painted his nails from that point onward. 

My life remained relatively stagnant while Brian was on tour, slaving away in the Stanford library over my thesis, eating take out most nights, and counting down the days until December 14th, which was going to be a big day for Brian and me both. It was to be his last day of the Mott tour, and it was also going to be my last day of school. I couldn’t believe that I had made it so far, and that the end was almost near. 

I went to Fresno over the Thanksgiving holiday, which normally I would have enjoyed, but all I could think about the entire time that I was at my parent’s house was that Brian had been there with me for Thanksgiving the year before, and now I was all alone. The holiday suddenly seemed bland and boring without the man that I loved by my side.

I did have a couple of surprises waiting for me when I returned to Stanford though. The first was a stack of mail from Brian, containing letters, pictures from the Mott tour, and even concert posters and used ticket stubs that Brian would pilfer here and there. It was like receiving an entire treasure trove, and a couple of the posters were so cool that I immediately tacked them up on my living room wall, so that I could look at them everyday and be reminded of Queen’s success. Brian had even talked John Harris into recording their concert in Liverpool and making a tape of it for me, so that I could feel like I’d been there along with all of their adoring fans. It was an amazing present to come home to.

My second surprise came when I returned to school on November 26th. My teacher, Professor Matthews, had been so impressed with the work that I’d done on my thesis up to that point, that he offered me a job the following semester working as his assistant. I was shocked and honored to say the least, but I told him in no uncertain terms that my goal was to get a job in London and move there permanently.

“Really?” he asked me after I’d told him of my plans. “Did you really like England all that much while you were attending King’s College?”

“Well, there’s that,” I grinned. “And the fact that my future husband is over there waiting for me to come back.”

“Ah! I see. You’re engaged are you?” he asked.

“I am,” I smiled.

“Well…” he said, after a moment of thought. “Why don’t we do this – how about you take the job with the provision that if you do find a job in London, you’re free and clear to leave with my blessing. I’ll even ask around for you, if you like, and see if I can help you find a job over there.”

“Really?” I asked. “You’d do that?”

“Well, I do have a few connections in England,” Professor Matthews answered. “I know quite a few professors in the London area in particular, including one that you may have known in the history department at King’s College named Professor Albertson.”

“You know Professor Albertson?” I asked. “Man, for a quiet guy, he sure gets around! One of my fiancé’s professors at Imperial College knows him as well!”

“Quiet?” Professor Matthews laughed. “You clearly haven’t been around him after he’s had a few pints!”

“You know…” I said thoughtfully. “I think I’d rather just think of him as my quiet little professor.”

Professor Matthews barked out with laughter and said, “Yes, well, you’re probably very wise! I’ll contact him though, and see if he knows of any jobs in the London area for you.”

“That would be great!” I smiled. “In fact, he even told me on my last day at King’s College that he’d let me know if anything came up.”

“Well, there you are then!” Professor Matthews grinned. “So what do you say? Will you take the job?”

I mulled it over for a moment, and finally said, “Yes, I suppose it would give me some good experience, as long as you know that I’m leaving if any opportunity in London comes along.”

“I will put you on a plane myself and send you off with my consent!” Professor Matthews smiled.

“Okay,” I smiled back, and just like that, I had a job waiting for me once I’d received my degree.

My last week of school was a stressful one, as I had to present my thesis to my graduating class, and argue the pros and cons of being a servant in 19th century England. Since speaking to a crowd of people wasn’t exactly my strong suit, I was very relieved when it was all over. My paper did seem to be received well by my classmates and teachers, though, which made me very happy. From there it was only a couple of days until the 14th, when I was finally free from being a student once and for all. I had told my professors that I wasn’t interested in participating in the commencement ceremony that would be taking place the following spring, since I hoped that I would be far, far away in England by that point, and asked them instead to simply mail me my diploma once it was ready.

I walked out of Stanford on my last day with a renewed spring in my step, and couldn’t wait to get home and call Brian. I tried a couple of times, but the phone in our flat just rang and rang. I knew that it was the night of their last big show in London, so I figured that he might be out kind of late. Finally, around 4:30 pm my time, I was able to reach him.

“Hello?” someone slurred into the phone. It was Roger, and by the sound of things, he’d had a substantial amount to drink.

“Hey Rog!” I said cheerfully. “Had a little too much to drink tonight?”

“I, er, may have had a bottle of wine… or two…” Roger replied.

“Good Lord…” I said, shaking my head. “Well, some things never change I guess.”

“It was Ian’s fault really,” Roger explained. “He’s the one that kept refilling my glass.”

“Ian?” I asked. “As in Ian Hunter from Mott The Hoople?”

“Yeah, that’s him,” Roger slurred. “Hey, you know, I’ve been meaning to tell you, Brian needs to get laid.”

I quirked an eyebrow at this sudden change of subject and said, “Oh yeah? Why is that?”

“Poor sod, he just lays in that bed of yours all alone every night,” Roger said. “God only knows what he’s doing in there…”

“Well, as long as he’s doing whatever it is he’s doing without female company, then I’m okay with it,” I laughed.

“Sam caught him one morning, you know,” Roger chuckled. “When she went in to use the toilet.”

“What?!” I exclaimed.

“Okay, darling, I think you’ve taken up enough of Carrie’s time…” I heard Sam say somewhere close by.

“Hey, Sam wants to say hi, so I’m going to go,” Roger said, clearly stifling a hiccup.

“Sounds good,” I replied. “Talk to you later Rog!”

“Hi Carrie!” Sam said with a laugh into the phone. “Sorry that Roger told you about that. He’s pretty drunk right now.”

“Yes, I can tell!” I laughed back. “So what exactly did you see Brian doing?”

“Um, he should probably tell you that himself,” Sam replied. “The good news is that he bought a nice long phone cord so that he can take the phone into the bedroom now and have a bit of privacy while he tells you all about it.”

“Oh, well that’s good,” I said. “Is he around?”

“Yes, he’s just realized that it’s you on the phone, and he’s standing here chomping at the bit,” Sam answered. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Sounds good. Bye Sam!”

“Hey you!” a cheerful sounding Brian said into the phone. “I was hoping I’d hear from you tonight!”

“Well, I called a couple times earlier, but I guess no one was home yet.”

“We only just got back about ten or fifteen minutes ago,” Brian told me. “I was just changing and washing off my make up when you called.”

“You know, it just sounds wrong somehow that my fiancé had to wash off his make up before he could talk to me,” I laughed.

“Yeah, I know,” Brian chuckled. “Hang on a sec, I’m going to take the phone into the bedroom.”

“Okay,” I said, and things instantly got much quieter as I heard our bedroom door close, blocking out the sounds of the TV and Roger and Sam talking to one another in the background.

“There, is that better?” Brian asked, sounding as though he was settling in on our bed.

“Much,” I said. “Sam tells me that you bought a new phone cord?”

“Yeah, well, I was getting tired of all the noise in the living room every time we tried to talk, so I thought a longer cord would solve the problem allowing me to just take you into the bedroom.”

“I like the sound of you taking me into the bedroom…”

“God I miss you…”

“I can tell after what Roger and Sam were just telling me,” I giggled.

“Why? What did they tell you?”

“Oh, just something about Sam catching you in an embarrassing situation one morning,” I explained, trying to hold back my laughter.

“Oh my God…” Brian grumbled. “I can’t believe she told you that!”

“Well, you can blame Roger really,” I said. “He’s the one who spilled the beans.”

“Naturally,” Brian said. “Well, he is completely plastered right now, so I doubt that he knows half of what’s coming out of his mouth.”

“So, care to tell me what happened?” I asked.

“Oh God… Not really, but I suppose if you must know, I was thinking about you one morning when I woke up, wearing that skimpy halter top of yours, and, well, I think you can probably imagine what I was doing. Luckily, I was under the covers, so Sam didn’t actually see me naked or anything. It was pretty obvious what I was up to though. Especially since I was calling out your name…”

“Aw, you were calling out my name?” I asked. “I do the same thing when I’m having those, um, quiet moments to myself.”

“You call out your own name?” Brian teased.

“Yes, yes I do. Cause I’m just that good,” I smirked.

Brian laughed and asked me, “So, er, what exactly are you doing during those quiet moments that you’re referring to?”

“Hmm, I think I’ll leave it to your imagination,” I said. “But just know that I’m thinking of you the whole time.”

“You know, I’ve actually got a bit of a proposition for you,” Brian said, lowering his voice a little.

“Oh yeah?” I asked. “What’s that?”

“I was thinking that you and I could plan a bit of a romantic evening for New Year’s Eve. Since we can’t be together we’d have to do it over the phone, but I was thinking that maybe we could send each other some pictures to help set the mood…”

“What kind of pictures are you suggesting?” I asked, feeling my skin start to flush.

“I don’t know,” Brian chuckled. “Sexy pictures. Maybe something involving you taking off that halter top for me…”

“Um…” I said, turning a deep shade of red. “I, uh, I guess I could do that. Except, where am I going to get the pictures developed?”

“I don’t know. Wherever,” Brian said. “I just know that I need to see you naked again. I’m going crazy over here.”

“And what do I get in return for these pictures?”

“Pictures of me doing the same sort of thing, of course.”

“You’re going to send me pictures of yourself stripping?” I asked, biting my lip to keep from laughing.

“Unless you don’t want me to.”

“No, no. I want you to.”

“It’s settled then. You and I have a date for New Year’s Eve,” Brian said. “We’ll have to take the pictures and send them soon though, so that they reach other person in time.”

“I will work on them as soon as you and I are off the phone,” I smiled. “So, not to change the subject, but how did your concerts at the Odeon go today?”

“Amazing,” Brian breathed. “We played to a combined audience of 7,000 people today between the matinee and evening shows. Can you believe it?”

“Holy cow!” I exclaimed. “That many?”

“Yep, and you know what the best part was?” Brian asked.

“What?”

“My mum and dad were there for both shows. It was the first time that they’ve ever seen Queen play live.”

“And what did they think?”

“They were completely shocked over how many people were there to see us,” Brian laughed. “I think my dad is starting to understand now why I chose this path.”

“Oh, baby, I’m so glad to hear that.”

“And the funny thing was, a fan in the audience figured out that they must be the parents of someone either from our band or Mott, and when they told the person that they were my parents, they got asked for their autographs!”

“Oh my God! That’s hilarious!” I laughed. “I’m so glad you guys had such a successful tour!”

“Well, it gets better,” Brian went on. “Guess where Mott wants us to tour with them next?”

“Where?”

“The States!”

“Oh my God, are you kidding me?” I breathed. “Are you going to come to California?”

“I don’t know yet,” Brian replied. “The dates haven’t been settled, but as soon as they are, you’ll be the first to know. We were even offered our own headlining tour of the UK the other day too by none other than Mel Bush!”

“Are you serious?!” I exclaimed. “An entire Queen tour?”

“Yeah, looks like it’s going to happen,” Brian answered. “Probably in March.”

“Oh my God, this is all just happening so fast,” I said, clapping a hand to my forehead. “You’re going to be so famous by the time I come back to England, you’re not even going to remember me anymore!”

“Ha!” Brian scoffed. “That, my darling, could never happen! Which reminds me, how did your last day of school go today? When are you starting your new job as assistant professor?”

“Um, January 7th,” I said. “And my last day sort of went out with a whimper really. I just mainly had to listen to the research papers of other students who’d waited to present their work until the last minute, and then that was it. I still can’t believe that it’s all finally over, that I’m finished being a student now.”

“Well, I’m so proud of you,” Brian said in a sweet tone. “I’m proud of both of us, really, that we’ve managed to stick it out through all these months without going insane!”

“I agree,” I laughed. “I think we both deserve an award!”

“My reward will be those pictures you’re going to send me…” Brian said. I could practically see his eyebrows waggling from 5,000 miles away. “So, when does the English job hunt begin?”

“It already has,” I replied. “Professor Matthews has already written letters to some of his contacts in England, and I’ve got Annie checking the newspapers for me everyday with the strict instructions that she is to call me immediately if she sees anything at all in my field of study.”

“I’ll keep an eye out too,” Brian said. “In fact, I’ll talk to my professors at Imperial and see if they can help out. Even though they work in a different field than yours they still might know people or hear about jobs that come up.”

“That would be great,” I sighed. “Every little bit helps.”

“You’re going to find something soon, I can just feel it,” Brian said. “You’ll be back in England and back in my arms before you know it.”

“God, I hope that’s true…” I said.

We chattered on for another half hour or so, before Brian started to yawn a bit, the chaotic events of the day finally catching up with him. I told him goodnight, gave him a few kisses over the phone, and hung up with the intention of taking the pictures that he’d requested of me.

I wandered into the bedroom and dug my camera out of the closet, checking to see how many frames I had left on my roll of film. I still had about ten, and figured that I’d use them up so that I could get the film in to be developed the following day. I didn’t have a tripod, so I looked around my bedroom, trying to find the best spot that I could set my camera down and turn on the timer. Since I was indoors, I had to slide the flash onto the top of the camera as well, making the whole thing a little top heavy. I was worried that the stupid thing might topple over on me while I was posing, but luckily, I found a spot on top of my dresser that worked perfectly, once I barricaded the camera on all sides with other objects. As soon as I had that figured out, my next hurdle was getting the camera properly focused. I set something on the edge of my bed right next to where I was going to be standing, looked through the viewfinder, and focused the lens as best I could, hoping that I would get something, anything, that was good enough to send to Brian.

Once the camera was ready, I went back into my closet to find the outfit that Brian wanted me to wear. I took out my halter-top and hip-hugger bell-bottoms, laying them across the bed momentarily while I took off the pajama bottoms and sweatshirt I’d been lounging around my apartment in. I got dressed quickly, and ran into the bathroom long enough to fix my hair and make up. Once I felt that I looked about as good as I was going to look, I meandered back out into my bedroom, standing near the foot of my bed, wondering how on earth I was going to pull off my attempts at being sexy. It was going to be a challenge there was no doubt about it. I wasn’t exactly model material, but I decided to be brave and do my best for Brian’s sake.

I set the timer on my camera, and nervously listened to the buzzing sound that it made as I posed with my arms outstretched at my sides, my weight shifted onto one foot, as the camera finally clicked the first shot. I took a deep breath, untied the ties on the back of my top, and let the front hang open a little, exposing only the tops of my breasts and cleavage in order to tease Brian. I set the timer again, and again the camera clicked off another shot. This process continued on with me taking off my shirt entirely for the next picture, then my pants, then my undies, then I focused the camera more on the bed, as I laid on top of the blankets, posing as provocatively as I could. By the time the film was used up, I collapsed onto the bed completely in a fit of the giggles.

The next day I took the film over to Long’s Drugs in downtown Palo Alto, and waited with bated breath until I was able to go down and pick up my pictures a couple of days later, praying to God that no pervert had made copies of my striptease during the developing process! I tried not to giggle the entire time that I was paying for the pictures, and ran out to my car as quickly as I could to tear open the paper envelope. People stared at me laughing out loud in my car as they walked past, probably thinking that I’d just been let out of the local mental hospital, but I couldn’t help it! The pictures were so utterly ridiculous that I had tears streaming down my face. At least they were in focus though, I was happy to say, and there was little doubt whatsoever that Brian was certainly going to get an eyeful!

I’d been waiting until I had the pictures in hand to send Brian his Christmas presents so that I could pack everything in one large box, and now that they were developed and ready, it was time to put together his package. I had done a bit of shopping a couple weeks before around the Bay Area, and discovered some interesting places selling unusual things that I knew that Brian would like. I knew how inspired he’d been by the lunar landing just a few years before, and I ran across a shop selling various science-type things where they had a t-shirt that said “One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind” which I bought him, along with a poster of a photo taken of the earth during the lunar landing. I also found some interesting old stereo photos that I knew that he didn’t have in an antique shop, and I even bought him an entire pound of See’s Candy to satisfy his chocolate cravings. But the most unique item of all that I’d found came from a specialty jewelry shop that I’d run across.

I happened to be passing by the place, located in the area of Menlo Park, and noticed that there was a sign outside advertising the fact that they made rings with family crests on them. I stopped to take a look, not really thinking that they would have a crest for the name May, but when I leafed through the book of designs that I could choose from, lo and behold, there was the May family crest looking very British with it’s red shield brandishing a gold stripe across the middle along with eight gold rectangles, four each on either side of the stripe. I had no idea what the significance was of the design, but I thought that it would make an interesting and unique gift, so I picked out a small golden ring with a blank circle shape encompassing the front, and placed an order to have the May coat of arms engraved on it. I had to guess at Brian’s ring size, since I’d never bought him any jewelry other than a necklace, and hoped that he would be able to find a finger to wear it on.

I ran home to box everything up, and then immediately drove down to the post office so that I could ship it off in that day’s mail, praying that it made it to Brian by Christmas Eve. 

I knew that Brian was probably sending me something too, and even though I had plans to visit my parents for Christmas, I decided that I would wait to leave for Fresno until my mail had come on Christmas Eve, just in case. My patience paid off, because a knock sounded at my door around 3:00 o’clock that afternoon, signaling the arrival of the mailman and the large box he’d brought me. My heart felt like it might beat right out of my chest as I set the box on my coffee table, tore at the tape and popped open the lid. The box was filled with wrapped Christmas presents, Cadbury bars, and a small envelope that felt as though it likely contained pictures. Although I couldn’t wait to examine the presents Brian had sent me more carefully, I was far more interested in the pictures.

I flopped down onto my couch, envelope in hand, and ripped open the seal. Inside was a letter, wrapped around a stack of photos, just like I’d supposed. I was eager to read the letter, but I was even more eager to see what the pictures contained. I started giggling with the very first picture, which was nothing more than Brian posing in our bedroom, much like I had done, wearing a black Beatles t-shirt and a pair of jeans. I could tell that he felt a little awkward in the picture, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans like he didn’t know what to do with them, but it was the look on his face more than anything that was getting to me. He was biting his lip, just the way he always did when he was up to something naughty, and I wasn’t sure whether I should be laughing or turned on or both.

I shuffled the first picture to the back of the stack and went on to the next. There was Brian, looking more awkward still, as he posed for the camera with the t-shirt removed. Again, it was funny and sexy all at the same time, and I could feel my face turning red all the way out to the tips of my ears as I gazed at the hard, sexy chest and stomach that I loved so much. Once I got past my initial fit of the giggles, I realized that the picture was actually really good. Quite good, in fact, and I found myself having all sorts of naughty thoughts the longer I looked at it.

I moved on to the next picture, and saw that the jeans had been removed, leaving Brian almost completely nude, posing in only his tightie-whities. Those were gone next, and I could feel my pulse quicken at the sight of Brian’s naked body. Just like me, he had taken a couple pictures of himself laying across the bed, his cock suddenly very hard in both shots. My body instantly reacted, and I found myself wanting desperately to be lying beside him, touching his warm body and tasting his skin. I wasn’t sure what was worse, not getting to see him naked for months, or getting to see him naked in photos and not being able to be near him. Regardless, it was going to be a long, uncomfortable drive to Fresno with thoughts of Brian’s nakedness swimming around in my head.


	72. Chapter 72

I decided that instead of opening Brian’s gifts before I left for my parents’ house that I would just take them with me to Fresno and open them the following morning, giving me something to look forward to on Christmas day itself. The pictures, however, I left safely tucked away in my nightstand drawer in anticipation of my New Year’s Eve phone call with Brian. I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d gotten my pictures too, and whether or not they were what he’d been hoping for to help him get in the mood. Admittedly, I’d never had phone sex before, and I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. Was I supposed to actually _do_ things to myself while I talked to Brian? I reckoned that that was probably what he was going to do. But how was I supposed to juggle the phone receiver while I…well… The more I thought about it, the more I couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps a trip to a sex shop was in order so that I could get something to help solve the problem…

It was difficult to keep my mind off of things all throughout Christmas Eve and into Christmas morning, but I tried the best I could, not wanting to let on to my parents what kind of naughty shenanigans their youngest child had been up to. Opening presents provided me with a temporary reprieve at least, and it was fun to finally see everything that Brian had sent me. Besides the Cadbury bars, he’d also sent me a small basket filled with a pretty flowery teapot and a selection of Twining teas, which I knew that he’d purchased at the Twining’s shop on The Strand in London. There was also a recent framed photo of Harold to hang up in my apartment and a Queen t-shirt featuring the guys’ logo, but the most lovely gift of all, was an original 1922 first edition signed copy of _British History in The 19th Century_ by George Macaulay Trevelyan. It was hardbound with incredible illustrations and photographs and was in remarkable condition. I could tell immediately that Brian had probably spent a sizable amount of money on it.

I couldn’t wait to hear my baby’s voice and tell him Merry Christmas, so as soon as I finished opening the stuff that my parents had gotten me, which included a sweater, a copy of _The Beatles 1962-1966_ album and a bottle of perfume, I headed back to my old bedroom to use the phone.

It only rang a couple of times before I heard, “Hello?”

“Merry Christmas sweetie!” I sang into the phone.

“Merry Christmas to you!” Brian replied. “I was just thinking about you! Are you at your mum and dad’s?”

“Yep, been here since last night,” I said.

“Did you get the package I sent you in time?” Brian asked.

“I did! In fact, I just got done opening the presents you sent me, and I love them all! Did you get everything that I sent you?”

“Yes, just yesterday,” Brian answered. “And as always, you’ve completely outdone yourself. I can’t get over the ring with my family crest on it!”

“Have you tried it on?” I asked excitedly. “Does it fit?”

“Yes, it fits my right pinkie finger perfectly.”

“Pinkie finger, huh?” I asked, feeling a little disappointed. “I hope that’s going to be okay. You could always get it sized I suppose.”

“No, no, it’s perfect on that finger, because it won’t get in my way when I’m playing guitar,” Brian explained. “I love it just the way it is! I’m wearing it right now, in fact, and I don’t plan on taking it off.”

“Well, okay,” I smiled. “As long as you’re happy with it. So what did you think of everything else I sent?”

“T-shirt, amazing, can’t wait to wear it. Poster will be going up in the bedroom shortly. Stereo photos are fantastic! I’ve never seen them before. And the chocolate is already half gone,” Brian told me.

“Anything else??” I asked.

“Was there something else that you sent me?” Brian asked, obviously playing coy.

“I think you know perfectly well what I’m talking about…”

“Oh, that’s right! There were some pictures…”

“Yes, and if you don’t stop trying to tease me, then I’m not going to talk to you on New Year’s Eve!” I exclaimed.

“Okay! Okay! Sorry!” Brian laughed. “They were very, very sexy. The ones of you posing on the bed were particularly nice. I had to put them away, in fact, otherwise I’m not going to be able to hold out until New Year’s Eve.”

I smiled and blushed and said, “Your pictures were incredibly sexy too…”

“No, I looked a complete idiot…”

“No, you did not!” I argued. “Trust me, they got an instant reaction out of me as soon as I looked at them.”

“Did they?” Brian chuckled quietly. “Well, I’m glad that you liked them anyway. I can’t wait until New Year’s…”

“Me either,” I said.

We chattered on a little while longer, and eventually decided that we’d better hang up before we drove my parent’s phone bill sky high. Brian’s mom and dad were coming by the flat anyway for Christmas it seemed, and since the place was in it’s usual disheveled state according to Brian, then he thought he’d better go and pick up a few things before they arrived.

The rest of my stay in Fresno was rather boring after talking with Brian, and the week leading up to New Year’s Eve seemed to positively drag by. I drove back to Palo Alto the day after Christmas and tried to busy myself with scrubbing dishes or dusting shelves or reorganizing kitchen cupboards or anything else I could find to pass the time. Nothing could take my mind completely away from Brian and thoughts of New Year’s Eve though, and several times over the next few days I found myself sneaking into my nightstand drawer to take a quick peek at Brian’s pictures. It was horrible waiting for something that you anticipated so highly, and without schoolwork to occupy my time any longer, the minutes seemed to creep by slower than ever.

Somewhere between Christmas and New Year’s Eve I also found my thoughts drifting back to the idea of going to a sex shop. I was embarrassed by the mere notion of such a thing, but at the same time, it had been a very long time since I’d been with Brian, and my urges were getting harder to suppress.

I plucked up my courage one afternoon and drove up to San Francisco, where I knew that I would find any number of seedy shops that would cater to my needs. I found what I was looking for in the downtown area and parked my car in the most inconspicuous spot I could find. I looked in my rear view mirror and adjusted the paisley scarf on my head and my dark sunglasses. I didn’t think that it was likely that I would run into anyone I knew in such a place, but I didn’t want to take any chances, therefore a small disguise was absolutely essential.

I made sure that every button was fastened on my long woolen coat as I approached the shop, and even pulled my collar up higher around my neck, trying to hide as much of myself as I could. A shop bell jangled as I walked through the door, nearly making me jump out of my own skin, and soon a gawky college aged guy with thick black glasses was peering at me from behind the long glass counter to my right, a smile stretching from ear to ear.

“Can I help you find anything miss?” he asked sweetly.

“Um, n-no,” I stuttered, trying to quickly shut the door behind me. “I’m, uh, I’m just looking.”

“Let me know if I can help,” he said.

“I’ll, um, I just… Yeah,” I finally managed.

I quickly scanned the store, hoping to find what I was looking for as fast as possible so that I could get the hell out of the place. I couldn’t help but wonder what Brian would think if he’d known that I was in such a place all by myself.

I didn’t take time to ponder the answer. Instead, I walked toward the left side of the store, away from the prying eyes of the young male cashier. I was thunderstruck by the things I saw. See through lingerie, fur-lined handcuffs, smutty books and magazines, and all sorts of devices that I did _not_ want to know the purpose of. I finally spotted what I was looking for hanging on a wall in the back left hand corner of the shop, and made a beeline for it. I casually looked around to make sure that I was alone, and began perusing the shop’s selection. There were rubber penis shaped dildos and large electric vibrating “massagers” that looked clunky and difficult to use, neither option being quite what I was looking for. Then I noticed a small plastic package containing a long, slender, metallic-looking battery operated device, which was small, compact, and seemed easy enough to use. It was perfect.

I plucked one off of the rack and scurried over to the glass counter and the gawky cashier behind it. Luckily the guy didn’t comment on what I was purchasing, but just quietly rang up the item, slipping it into a plain brown paper bag as I handed him a wad of cash. As soon as I received my change I snatched the bag off of the counter, and made a hasty retreat through the shop’s front door. I walked as quickly as I could to my car, fighting valiantly against a fit of the giggles as I went. I took deep breaths and bit my bottom lip trying not to think of the things I’d just seen inside the strange little shop. By the time I got inside my car, however, I couldn’t hold it in any longer, and began laughing until I had tears streaming from my eyes. Even across time and space, I couldn’t believe the things I still found myself doing because of the members of Queen! Well, one member of Queen at least…

At last New Year’s Eve dawned cold and hazy in the Bay Area. Brian and I had settled on the hour of 3:00 pm my time to start our phone call since it was impossible for us to ring in the New Year together with the eight hour time difference. I told him that since my heart was still in England anyway, that we should celebrate the New Year based on London time. 

I waited with bated breath the entire morning of December 31st, glancing at the phone every time I walked past it, as if willing it to ring early. Like Brian, I too had purchased a long phone cord so that the phone could be taken into my bedroom. It wasn’t as if I needed the privacy the way he did, but I figured that I’d be more comfortable on my bed, and that the things in my nightstand drawer would be more easily accessible.

Finally, at five minutes until three the phone rang. I’d been in the bathroom brushing my teeth, as if Brian could smell my breath through the phone, and damn near tripped and killed myself over the new longer phone cord as I raced down the hallway, diving for the receiver.

“Hello?” I panted into the phone.

“Hey there old lady! What are you up to?”

It wasn’t Brian’s voice, but Roger’s.

“Roger!? Why are you calling me?” I demanded.

“Because I’m about to have a bit of fun with Brian,” he said quietly into the phone.

“Roger Taylor, you know damn well that Brian and I have been looking forward to…”

“Oh, yeah! Hi Mum!” Roger suddenly said cheerfully. “How are things in Cornwall? Raining is it?”

“Roger, what are you doing on the phone?! I need it right now!” I heard Brian say in a quiet but panic-stricken voice.

“It’s my mum!” Roger protested. “She’s calling all the way from Truro! I can’t just hang up on her!”

“God damn it Roger!” Brian said more loudly. “You know I’ve been planning this for weeks!”

“Roger, knock it off and hand Brian the phone!!” I yelled.

“Well, if you’ve been planning it for weeks, then five more minutes shouldn’t hurt,” Roger simpered, his voice muffled slightly, like his mouth was away from the receiver. His voice grew louder then as he went on, “So what were you saying Mum?”

“I’m warning you Rog! I’ll hang up on her! I mean it!” Brian shouted. I could just see the determined look on his face, his finger poised above the hang-up button on the phone base.

“What? You’re going to hang up on your fiancé?” Roger railed.

“What??” Brian asked.

“It’s Carrie you bloody idiot!” Roger laughed hysterically. “I called her just to piss you off!”

I could hear a slight scuffle and then a loud clanging sound as the receiver clearly hit the floor.

“I swear to God Roger!” Brian barked as I listened to Roger’s retreating form continue to laugh.

The little shit! I thought to myself. He was going to get his the next time I saw him! 

The slight squeaking sound of a hand grabbing the receiver echoed through the phone line, as Brian breathlessly said, “Carrie? Are you still there?”

“Yeah, I’m here,” I said. “I hope you punched him!”

“Not yet, but I’ll get him back later,” Brian replied. I could hear a tiny ringing sound and knew that it was the bell tinkling in the phone base as Brian lifted it up.

“Oooh! Am I supposed to be scared?!” I heard Roger shout from across the room.

“Don’t you have another bottle of wine to crack open or something?!” Brian yelled back at him sarcastically. “Clearly you’re not drunk enough yet!”

“When you’re right, you’re right!” Roger exclaimed. “Got a bottle waiting in the fridge! I wish Sam would hurry up and get over here. It’s not fair if you’re the only one getting some action tonight!”

“Stupid sod…” Brian mumbled, as I heard our bedroom door close behind him. “Sorry about that,” he said to me. “Roger’s been more difficult than usual today. Can you please come back home now so I don’t have to live with him anymore?”

“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry,” I said, lifting up my phone base to carry it into my bedroom as well. “You know that I wish I could. What’s Roger been up to today?”

“Ugh!” Brian grumbled as I heard his body flop onto our bed. “Well, he’s been taking the piss out of me over this phone call all day, knowing what you and I have got planned, and on top of everything else, he somehow managed to break the living room lamp this morning!”

“He broke our lamp?!” I exclaimed as I set the phone base on top of my nightstand and settled onto my bed.

“I’m telling you, he’s worse than having a five-year-old around,” Brian sighed. “So how have you been today?”

“Okay,” I smiled. “Just waiting on pins and needles for you to call.”

“You only had to wait until three o’clock!” Brian teased. “Imagine what I’ve been going through all day!”

“Yes, I know, I know,” I laughed. “So what have you been doing all day, other than battling with Roger?”

“Well, I ran to the market this morning for cat food and beer, I cleaned out the inside of the Mini, even though it was bloody freezing outside, and I did a bit of laundry. Very exciting stuff,” Brian said in a dry tone. “But, I do have a bit of news for you.”

“Oh yeah?” I asked excitedly. “What’s that?”

“Well, for starters, we just found out a few days ago that Queen has been booked to play a concert in Australia called the Sunbury Festival!”

“What??” I exclaimed. “You guys are going to Australia? When??”

“Soon,” Brian replied. “We’re leaving at the end of January, and apparently I don’t have all of my injections, so the fellas and I have to go get a series of shots sometime in the coming month.”

“You have to have shots just to go to Australia?” I asked. “Don’t they have similar illnesses to the rest of us?”

“I don’t know,” Brian said. “It’s just what we were told. Anyway, it’s pretty exciting news that we’ll be going to Australia! The other thing we’ve learned are the dates for our American tour with Mott, and that’s not such good news.”

“Oh no! Why?”

“Well, it appears that the closest we’ll be going to California is Denver, Colorado.”

“Denver?!” I cried. “But that’s not close at all!”

“I know, trust me,” Brian said quietly. “I was devastated when I found out. But is there any way, any way at all, that you can come out to see me in Denver? It’ll be the closest we’ve been to one another in nine months.”

“What date is the concert?” I asked.

“The 16th of April,” Brian answered. “It’s the first show on the tour though, so we’re landing on the 12th. If you could make it to Denver, then that would give us four whole days to be together.”

“Oh my God…” I breathed, wracking my brain, trying desperately to think up ways that I could somehow get to Denver. “I’ll be working in my assistant professor position by then, that is, if I haven’t found anything in England by that point…”

“I know, but is there some way that you could take some time off?” Brian pleaded. “I’ve looked up where Colorado is at in proximity to California, and it’s only a few states away.”

“Yes, but they’re large states!” I laughed.

“Baby, I’ll go mad if I know you’re only a few states away from me and I can’t see you…”

“Let me see what I can do,” I said. “I don’t know if I can afford to fly right now, but I’ll drive if I have to. Whatever it takes!”

“Yes!” Brian cried. “That’s what I wanted to hear! You have no idea how happy that makes me!”

“We’re going to see each other again!” I exclaimed. “Oh my God! It just really hit me! We’ll get to see each other for four days in April!”

“I know! You have no idea how thrilled I am! But, it is going to be safe, right? Will you be okay driving that far on your own?”

“I’ll be fine,” I said, waving aside his concern. “My car runs great, and if I only stop overnight, I can make it to Denver in two days.”

“Two days?!” Brian exclaimed. “Is it _that_ far?”

“Yes, but it’ll be fine! We just have to remember that we’re going to see each other again, and that’s all that matters.”

“Speaking of getting to see you again,” Brian purred into the phone after a short pause. “I’ve got some very lovely photos here that I’m looking at…”

“Oh yeah?” I grinned, reaching over to my nightstand drawer to pull out the photos that Brian had sent me, along with my new battery operated friend.

“Mm…” Brian sighed in agreement. “My favorite is the one of you lying across your bed on your stomach naked, followed very closely by the one of you taking your top off.”

“My favorite one that you sent me is where you’re lying on your back with a nice hard cock…” I said, blushing to the tips of my ears.

“I was thinking of you when I took the picture,” Brian whispered, his voice sounding huskier. “What are you wearing right now?”

“A pair of shorts, a tank top and my undies,” I answered.

“Aren’t you cold?” Brian asked.

“No,” I laughed. “I’ve got the heater on.”

“Ah. Are you going to leave your clothes on, or are you going to take them off?”

“Do you want me to take them off?”

“Mm hmm,” Brian mumbled.

“Hang on…” I giggled, as I put the receiver down long enough to stand up and pull my shirt up over my head and yank my shorts and undies down my legs before settling back down on the bed. I picked the phone back up and said, “Okay, clothes are off. What are you wearing anyway?”

“Just a pair of shorts,” Brian said. “Should I take them off?”

“Mm hmm,” I purred.

“Let me set the phone down for a second,” Brian replied. I could hear him shifting around and the sound of rustling fabric, and within seconds, he was back on the line.  
“There. Shorts are gone.”

“Are you hard?” I asked.

“I’m looking at naked photographs of you and listening to your sexy voice, what do you think?”

“I think I wish that I was there to kiss you all over, starting with your soft lips and working my way down your chest and stomach until I got to your hard cock…”

“Oh fuck…” Brian moaned. “And then?”

“And then I would tease you by licking just the tip of your cock before taking the whole thing into my mouth.”

“Oh baby…” Brian breathed. “Are you lying on top of me, or are you kneeling on the floor?”

“Hmm…” I grinned, feeling the excitement welling up inside of me, knowing that Brian was getting turned on. “I think I’m kneeling on the floor.”

“Are you looking up at me as you suck on my cock?”

“Mm hmm…” I whispered. “I look up at you and smile just before I lick you up and down, over and over, and then finally take you all the way into my mouth, sucking on you long and hard until you feel like you’re going to come…”

“Oh God, baby, I am going to come,” Brian whimpered. 

It was then that I realized that I could hear the sound of his hand moving over his cock as he pleasured himself, and it turned me on so much that I had to flip the switch on my new gadget to the “on” position, rubbing it against my sensitive skin as I listened to Brian breathing hard into the phone. 

“You’ve never let me come in your mouth before,” Brian went on between gasps of air. “God I wish I could come in your mouth…”

“Okay,” I purred. “But just this once…”

“Oh God! Carrie!” Brian cried out before letting out a series of moans and groans that I recognized all too well. 

I could see his face so clearly in my mind – his eyes closed tightly, his mouth open as he tried to catch his breath, the sweat beading on his skin – God how I wanted him. I’d never been more turned on in my life than I was in that moment, knowing that just the thought of me could cause Brian to reach an orgasm. The more I thought about it, the more excited I became.

“I swear to God woman…” Brian breathed at last. “The things you do to me…”

“Trust me, I know, cause you’re doing them to me right now too…”

“Am I?” Brian asked, still trying to catch his breath. “What am I doing to you?”

I held my new toy up to the phone and said, “Can you hear that?”

“I hear something buzzing…” Brian said after a short pause. “Wait… Are you telling me that you have…?”

“Mm hmm,” I simpered, moving the little gadget back down to a more pleasurable spot. “I bought something special just for this occasion.”

“Oh, fuck me…” Brian sighed. “I’m going to get hard again just thinking about it…”

“Well,” I grinned. “I’m laying here completely naked, so what are you going to do to me naughty boy?”

“Are your nipples hard?” Brian whispered seductively.

“Uh-huh…”

“Mm, then the first thing I’m going to do is suck on each one as I gently run my hand down the front of your body, feeling the wetness between your legs as I push my fingers inside of you…”

“Oh God yes…” I moaned, my body starting to shake all over at the thought of his long, slender fingers being inside of me, moving in and out and driving me crazy. It was one of my favorite parts of having sex with him, and he knew it. “What else?”

“Then I’d kiss my way down your stomach, lifting your legs up over my shoulders as I lick you and tease you with my tongue…”

“Uh huh…” I moaned, the vibrator doing its job perfectly as I felt my climax starting to form.

“Then I’d plunge my hard cock inside of you, pushing all the way in until you cried out with pleasure…”

“Brian…” I whimpered as my orgasm began to wash over me like a tidal wave. “Oh God, Brian!”

“Did you come?” Brian asked hopefully. “Please tell me you came…”

“Oh yeah, believe me, I did…” I said, gasping for air.

“Shit that was hot,” Brian breathed. “I’m completely hard again.”

“Oh yeah?” I smiled teasingly. “Well I’m very, very wet, and if you were here right now, you could slide right into me with very little effort…”

“Oh fuck…” Brian practically growled, and immediately I could hear the sounds of skin against skin again as he began pleasuring himself once more. I continued to do the same on my end, knowing that it wouldn’t take much for me to reach my climax again. “God, I can feel your warm wet skin wrapped around me…”

“I can feel you inside of me,” I whimpered, my breathing becoming more and more ragged at the thought of Brian making love to me. “Pushing deeper with every stroke…”

“Oh God yes… Your ankles up over my shoulders as I move harder and faster… Baby, I’m gonna come again…”

“Me too…” I cried, as both of us whimpered and moaned over the phone, desperately wishing that we could be together to share such a beautiful moment. I missed him so much. I missed the feel of his body, the taste of his skin, the smell of his shampoo and cologne and everything that just made up his own unique scent. I fought back the tears as I whispered, “God I can’t wait for April to get here!”

“They’d better have a nice quiet hotel room ready for us, cause the first thing I’m going to do when I see you is drag you inside and make love to you until I’m too exhausted to move!” Brian said, as he fought to catch his breath.

“That sounds like heaven!” I laughed. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Brian whispered. “Do you know that it’s almost midnight here?”

I looked at the clock on my nightstand, and indeed, it was nearly four o’clock my time. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

“Happy 1974 Mrs. May.”

“Happy 1974 Mr. May.”


	73. Chapter 73

The month of January started out quietly enough with damp foggy weather blanketing the Bay Area like a dreary grey shroud. I started my work as assistant professor on the 7th and Brian was busy rehearsing with Queen for their upcoming tours. Every day plodded along much like the one before, until, somewhere in about the middle of January, there was a pause in my daily letters that I received from Brian. I didn’t think much of it at first, knowing that it was inevitable that the post office should screw up at some point, but when another day went by with no letter, and then another, I knew that something was wrong.

When I called Brian to ask what was going on, he told me that he had a slight infection in his right arm from the injections he’d received for the upcoming Australia trip, and that he couldn’t write because his arm was a little sore. He apologized and said that he’d been meaning to call me and let me know that everything was okay, but I could tell by the sound of his voice that everything was most definitely _not_ okay. I suspected that things were worse than he was letting on, and sure enough, by the time I spoke with him again right before he was supposed to leave for Australia, he finally confessed that not only had his arm been infected, but it had been infected with gangrene, and that it was touch and go for awhile as to whether or not the doctors might have to amputate.

I was beside myself with grief and worry, and livid with Brian for not telling me the truth.

“What could you have done from over there?” Brian insisted. “I didn’t want you to worry!”

“I don’t know what I would have done!” I exclaimed over the phone. “But I don’t like the fact that you weren’t truthful with me!”

“Baby, I’m sorry,” Brian said sincerely. “I was worried about _you_ being worried! I knew that if you thought that something was wrong, that it would drive you mad to the point that you wouldn’t be able to eat or sleep or… or even go to work! That wouldn’t have done either of us any good!”

I took a deep breath and sighed, knowing that he was right.

“But you’re okay now?” I asked at last.

“I’m fine,” he assured me. “I’m still having a bit of pain, but not enough to keep me from doing the show in Australia.”

“I’m really upset with you over this, you know,” I said, wishing that he could see the deep scowl etched into my forehead. “You’d better not ever keep anything like this from me again, do you hear? I don’t care how worried you think that I’m going to get, if there’s something, _anything,_ wrong with you, you need to call me the second you find out.”

“Fine,” Brian said reluctantly. “But I still don’t know what you could have done.”

“Well, I know one thing that I’m going to do for sure,” I said resolutely. “I’m going to start looking much harder for a job in the U.K. No more pussy footing around. I’m going to find a job over there as soon as possible, even if it means working as a damned waitress!”

“All that studying at university to work as a waitress?” Brian laughed.

“I honestly don’t care anymore!” I exclaimed, and I meant it.

As soon as I’d hung up with Brian, I immediately called Annie to see if she’d seen or heard anything on the job front. When I told her what had happened with Brian’s arm she knew that I was desperate, and agreed to help me out by pouring all of her efforts into scouring the papers for me every single day. She even volunteered to go see our old professors at King’s College in the hopes that they might be able to help. 

Meanwhile, on my side of the pond, I went to work a little earlier than usual the next morning so that I could pull Professor Matthews aside and ask him if he’d heard anything about job opportunities for me. Come to find out, he hadn’t made a single phone call or written a single letter on my behalf. I tried not to be angry, and simply explained to him as calmly as I could, that my fiancé had recently had a very serious health problem, and that I was anxious to get a job and get back home. I watched as he sat at his desk that very afternoon and penned several letters to professors and teachers that he was acquainted with in the London area, and I even got to read them over before he sealed them inside of their envelopes. He was very generous, giving me a glowing reference in each of the letters, but still, I knew that it would take days before the letters would reach their intended recipients, and even more time still for anyone to actually consider hiring me. But, I supposed that it was all that anybody could do at that point, and that I would have to learn to be patient. Brian, was, after all, going to be going out on tour in a month’s time, so it wasn’t as if he was sitting at home twiddling his thumbs waiting for me to get back…

I let out a long sigh, and found myself hanging my head in grief over the mere thought. I worried that Brian was going to be so busy soon that he wouldn’t have time to even give me a second thought anymore. All the more reason to get back home! I told myself defiantly. I needed to get back to London, and it needed to be soon!

From that point forward I kept in closer contact with Annie and Professor Matthews, and even starting making a few phone calls of my own to schools, colleges, museums, anyplace that I could think of that might hire me. There were a few places that were potentially interested in me, but I found out quickly that most people didn’t want to deal with the red tape of work visas and immigration laws and the like. It was a tougher row to hoe than I’d imagined, and it became increasingly clear that trying to apply for jobs from 5,000 miles away was not a simple task. I told myself, though, that job or no job, I would somehow find a way to move back to England by summertime, no matter what. I simply couldn’t take living apart from Brian any longer.

While I waited for any kind of news on the job front, I decided to put all of my thoughts and efforts into seeing Brian in Denver in April. It was one of the few bright spots in my otherwise very dull life. The only other thing that I had to look forward to was my 24th birthday on March 23rd, but even that didn’t seem like that big of a deal to me. Not without Brian, anyway. Nonetheless, my parents invited me down to Fresno for a couple of days, since my birthday fell on a Saturday, and lavished me as best they could with gifts and love, and a very pretty pink cake from good old Swiss Chalet bakery. When I told my parents that I was going to be driving all the way to Denver in about three weeks time my mother nearly came unhinged, fearing that I would likely die in a horrific car accident, or be kidnapped by truck drivers, or both. My dad, fortunately, took a slightly more pragmatic stance, and gave my car the once over, trying to see if it could make such a long journey without any problems. He proclaimed that it could, but since he barely knew how to check a car’s oil and tires, that didn’t provide me with an overabundance of confidence somehow.

Nevertheless, I spent the next couple of weeks plotting and planning and getting ready for my big trip. I took my car in to have an oil change, just in case, and even had my tires rotated and realigned. I made sure that all of my best clothes were clean and ready to go and went to the store to buy snacks, film, batteries and anything else that I could think of. I’d been hoping to leave on Thursday, April 11th, since the guys were getting into Denver on the 12th, that way we’d all arrive on the same day and I’d have as much time with Brian as possible before he had to move on to Kansas City, Missouri for Queen’s next show. It hadn’t really occurred to me, however, that Easter was falling on the very weekend that I was going, which had its advantages and its disadvantages. The advantage was that the Denver show was during spring break, meaning that I could enjoy my time with Brian without feeling rushed to get back home and back to my job. The disadvantage was that Professor Matthews had a week’s worth of exams to give his students before everyone left for their holidays, meaning that the earliest I could get away was Friday, April 12th, and even that was pushing it. What it really meant, of course, was that I was going to have one day less in Brian’s company. I tried my hardest not to dwell on that though. The fact that I was going to see him at all was enough, and if I was able to make good time on Friday, then I might get into Denver relatively early on Saturday, meaning that we could spend part of Saturday and all day Sunday, Monday and Tuesday together before having to say goodbye on Wednesday.

Brian gave me the phone number and address of the Holiday Inn that the band was booked to stay in whilst in Denver, and told me that they should be checked in by no later than 3:00 pm on the 12th. We wished each other a safe journey over the phone the day before we both left, and I barely slept that entire night, worrying over how his flight was going, and praying that he landed in Denver in one piece.

I was up at the crack of dawn, loading my things into my car. I called my mom quickly per her request to let her know that I was leaving, and locked up my apartment, making sure that everything was turned off and unplugged before walking out the door once and for all. I was so nervous and excited that I couldn’t eat a thing for breakfast, deciding that I would find someplace along the way once my hunger overcame me. I had my map of California lying across my car’s passenger seat as I drove, with the route leading east toward Donner Pass highlighted in green ink so that I could easily reference it whenever I needed to. It was an uncommonly warm spring day, and everything was going great, until I had to start climbing the Sierra Nevada mountain range. 

My car was running a little more sluggish than usual, and by the time I had crossed the Sierras into Reno, Nevada, my engine was actually starting to smoke. I panicked and pulled off the road, wrenching open my car door and jumping out of the driver’s seat, worried that my poor Camaro was about to burst into flames at any moment!

I stood at the side of the road shaking, watching the smoke pour out from under my hood, wondering what on earth I was going to do! I knew nothing at all about fixing cars, but I knew enough to know that smoke coming from a car’s engine was a bad thing! A million thoughts raced through my head about finding a pay phone, who I would call to help me, and how the hell I was supposed to get to Denver, when, from out of nowhere, a hideous olive green colored station wagon pulled up next to me.

“Do you need help?” the man behind the wheel called out to me. I was hesitant at first to take any kind of help from a stranger, considering that I was all alone, but I glanced at the people inside of his car, and realized that it was an entire family, consisting of a wife in the front passenger seat and two kids in the back. The problem was that I didn’t have a lot of options. After quickly surmising my surroundings, it was clear that I wasn’t near a pay phone or a gas station, and I needed to let someone know as soon as possible what had happened. Preferably before my car blew up.

“Um, yes,” I said cautiously, hoping that a family with small kids in a station wagon would be a safe bet.

“Well, hop in the back, and we’ll get you to a pay phone,” the guy said, and I nodded, reaching into my car just long enough to grab my purse and keys. He instructed his two kids to scoot over in order to make room, and soon the soles of my shoes were squelching in the sticky remains of what appeared to have once been a popsicle, now melted onto the floor of the car, as I slid into the backseat. I shut the car door with a snap as the guy went on, “There should be a pay phone just up ahead at the truck stop.”

“Thank you,” I said, and soon we were rumbling down Interstate 80 as quickly as a family filled station wagon could possibly go.

The guy had been right. There was a truck stop not more than a few minutes down the road, and that’s where I was let off in order to find some help. The first thing that I did was call my dad, trying and failing to hold back the tears as I explained to him that my precious car was spewing smoke on the side of Interstate 80. He calmly told me to call a tow-truck, get the car to a mechanic, and then call him back as soon as I found out what was wrong. It seemed so simple, but being so far from home all on my own just made the problem seem ten times bigger. I searched through the phone book dangling on a metal cord inside of the phone booth, and found the tow-truck section. There was a company that advertised the fact that they were located just off of Interstate 80 and I decided to give them a call, hoping that they were nearby.

Within about 15 minutes or so, a large yellow tow-truck came jangling into the truck stop’s parking lot, and I ran out to meet it, climbing inside and taking the driver to the scene of where I’d broken down. Small amounts of smoke were still petering out from under the hood of my Camaro, as the tow-truck driver pulled up behind my poor girl to see what was wrong. I tugged open the hood latch for him, sending puffs of white smoke into the air as he lifted up the hood, and within minutes he gave me the verdict.

“Well,” he said with what sounded like a Texas accent. “It looks to me like your radiator hose is cracked.”

“What?!” I cried. I shook my head, hoping that perhaps it wasn’t as bad as it sounded. “How long does something like that take to get fixed?”

“Well, it just depends on who you take it to, and if they’ve got the parts,” the guy explained. “It’s kind of a bad time to need a repair with Easter Sunday being day after tomorrow and all. Most places will probably want to close up early today.”

Oh God! I thought to myself. This was not happening! It simply could not be happening! 

“Is there a mechanic close by that we could take it to?” I asked as calmly as I could.

“Oh sure,” said the guy, whose name was Mike according to the nametag on his blue striped shirt. “My buddy Pete has got a place just up the road, and he should still be open for a little while yet.”

It was already pushing one o’clock in the afternoon, and knowing that a mechanic was likely not going to stay open past 5:00 pm, particularly on a holiday weekend, I knew that time was of the essence. I watched as Mike hitched my poor decrepit car up on his hook and chain before we both climbed back into his truck for the journey to see this Pete fellow. Luckily it wasn’t a long journey, and within about ten minutes or so, we were pulling up in front of what appeared to be a small mom & pop kind of place called “Delmont’s Auto Repair”.

“Hey there Mike!” an older man with thinning hair and a beer belly called out as we pulled up. He walked toward the tow-truck as we got out, wiping his hands on a greasy rag, as he asked, “What do we have here?”

The man sounded as though he was from Louisiana, and I couldn’t help but wonder if half of Reno’s population was from the south.

“How ya doin’ Pete?” Mike said, hopping down from the truck and exchanging pleasantries with his friend. “Looks like we got a busted radiator hose here.”

“No kiddin’?” Pete said, as he looked at the hulking form of my car dangling precariously from the back of Mike’s truck. He glanced at me then and jokingly said, “How fast were you drivin’, missy, that you busted your radiator hose?”

Both men laughed out loud, clearly thinking that this was hilarious, but I was in no mood for jokes.

“Look, I’m supposed to be in Denver by tomorrow,” I said bluntly. “So how long will something like this take to fix?”

“Well,” Pete drawled. “Depends on what’s wrong with it. Let’s take her down off the truck and have a look shall we?”

I sat around for over an hour staring at a fuzzy black and white TV in the waiting room of the shop, getting up periodically to pace the floor, as I silently prayed that my car could be fixed quickly.

Finally, both Pete and Mike came waltzing into the room, laughing out loud over the latest episode of _M*A*S*H,_ as if my life wasn’t completely hanging in the balance at that moment. Apparently, Mike had had nothing better to do than to hang around and chat with his friend while my car was being looked at, making the whole process take that much longer I was sure.

“Well little missy, I’ve got some good news and some bad news,” Pete said to me, still wiping his hands on the same greasy rag.

If my car’s life hadn’t been in his hands then I would have told him in no uncertain terms where he could stick that greasy rag if he called me “missy” about one more time.

“The good news,” he went on, “is that your car does have a busted radiator hose, which is easy enough to fix.”

“Well, that’s good, right?” I asked hopefully.

“The bad news,” he said, “is that I don’t have a radiator hose for a 1969 Camaro in stock, and it will probably take about two days to get here, which means that I won’t get it until Tuesday at the earliest.”

“Tuesday?!” I shrieked. “But that will be too late by then! My fiancé is leaving Denver on Wednesday morning!”

“Ah! So that’s why you were in such a hurry to get to Denver,” Pete smiled, giving Mike a knowing wink.

“I wasn’t in a hurry!” I stated firmly, hands on my hips. “I was driving perfectly safely, thank you very much!”

“Well, safely or not, there ain’t a dog-gone thing I can do for ya until next week, missy,” Pete said. “Where are you all from anyways?”

“The Bay Area in California,” I replied, feeling like I didn’t want to give either of these men any more information about myself than absolutely necessary.

“Well, I would suggest that you find yourself a nice cozy little hotel,” Pete began, “and let your fiancé know that you’re not going to make it to Denver. Luckily for you, you wound up here in Reno. There’s hotels everywhere ‘round here. I’m sure Mike would be happy to help you find one.”

I looked at my tow-truck driver, who was grinning at me from ear to ear, and felt very uneasy about the thought of him knowing exactly where I was going to be staying – and that I was going to be alone. 

“That’s okay,” I said. “I think I’ll call a cab.”

“Suit yourself, missy,” Pete said.

I settled my bill with Mike the tow-truck guy, then used Pete’s phone to not only call a cab but to call my dad as well and let him know what was going on. He offered to come out to Reno in a couple days time to make sure that my car was fixed and ready to head back into California, and I gratefully took him up on his offer, asking if he could follow me back home just to make sure that there weren’t any more mishaps.

By the time I got settled into a room at Harrah’s hotel and casino on the Reno strip, it was already three in the afternoon. I dropped all of my luggage into a heap on the floor of my room, and immediately flopped down onto the bed and began to cry. I felt like God was punishing me somehow. How could my one and only chance to see Brian in nine long months go so horribly wrong?! It simply wasn’t fair! We needed this opportunity so desperately! We needed to reconnect! This had been my chance to see him and touch him and make love to him again – and in the blink of an eye, it was all taken away from me. I was going to be stuck in dumb-ass Reno all alone, while Brian spent the next few days in lovely, scenic Denver without me. I felt like I wanted to die.

I looked at the clock sitting on the nearby nightstand, and it occurred to me that Brian was probably already checked into his hotel room. I sat up, swiped at my tear-stained face, and rifled around in my purse looking for the bit of paper I’d written the hotel’s phone number and address on, eventually finding it folded up underneath my wallet. Brian had told me that he didn’t think Queen’s fans were going to be enough of a problem to warrant extra security measures at the hotel, since America didn’t know the band’s music all that well yet, but nonetheless, they’d decided to use aliases anyway, just in case, since they’d had problems with fans the month before on their U.K. tour. I looked down at the scrap of paper with the hotel’s information, smiling at the alias that Brian had decided to use. He’d chosen his middle name of Harold and my last name of Martin as his secret code name, and it made my heart fill with joy that I meant enough for him to use my name.

I dialed the phone number he’d given me, and when the clerk at the front desk answered, I said, “Harold Martin’s room please.”

“Certainly, he just checked in. One moment please.”

The phone rang a couple of times before I finally heard Brian say, “Hello?”

“Hey you,” I said, trying not to sound too heartbroken.

“Hey!” Brian replied. “I thought you’d be on the road right now! I wasn’t expecting to hear from you until later!”

“Well, I was supposed to be on the road…”

“What happened?” Brian asked in a concerned voice. “Why aren’t you?”

“I’m stuck in Reno!” I cried, unable to hold back the tears any longer.

“What?! What do you mean stuck?”

“My car broke down as I was coming into Reno,” I sniffed. “Smoke was pouring out from under the hood and everything. You wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had!”

“My God!” Brian exclaimed. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay, but my car won’t be fixed until at least Tuesday!”

“Tuesday!” Brian cried. “You must be joking! There has to be something that can be done! Where are you? Where is Reno?”

“All the way in Nevada near the California border,” I explained. “I’d only been driving about four and a half hours when it happened. Now my car is sitting in a damn mechanic’s shop!”

“Is there a train you can take?” Brian asked hopefully. “Any way you can get here at all?”

“No,” I sobbed. “There aren’t passenger trains out here in the west like there are in England. And even if there were, I can’t just abandon my car.”

“So you’re telling me that we can’t see each other. Not at all?”

“No,” I said. “And believe me, I’m as heartbroken as you are.”

“I just… God damn it!” Brian shouted. “How could this happen?! How can it be that I’m only a couple states away from you and it’s that difficult for us to see each other?!”

“I don’t know baby,” I wept. “I’ve been asking myself that all day.”

“I mean… I’ve got birthday presents for you and everything!” Brian cried. “I just… I can’t believe this…”

“What’s wrong mate?” I could hear Roger suddenly ask in the background. “I heard you shouting from next door.”

“Carrie’s car broke down. She can’t make it to Denver,” Brian explained to him bitterly. I’d never heard him sound so dismayed in all the time I’d known him.

“What?!” Roger exclaimed. “Where is she? Still in California?”

“No, she’s in some town called Reno.”

“Reno?” Roger asked. “Where the fuck is that? Here, let me talk to her…”

Roger took the phone from Brian, clearly thinking that he had all the answers and could come up with a solution for our dilemma.

“Carrie?” he asked. “What’s wrong with your car?”

“The radiator hose is cracked,” I said.

“Well that’s not hard to fix,” Roger replied. “Have a bloody mechanic wrap some tape around it and get back on the road!”

“I can’t do that,” I scoffed. “It wouldn’t be safe! The mechanic told me that it had to be replaced!”

“It should be fine!” Roger argued. “I’ve done it before when I haven’t had enough money to replace a part.”

“Roger, with all due respect,” I said as calmly as I could, “this is a very different situation. You are a guy. I’m a girl out driving all alone. The roads that I would have to take in order to reach Denver are long and hot and desolate. It would not be safe for me to break down in the middle of the desert somewhere.”

“Look, of course I don’t want that to happen,” Roger said. “But do you have any idea how much this poor man has been looking forward to seeing you?? You’re going to break his heart!”

“Yes, Roger, I think I have some idea of how heartbroken Brian is feeling right now,” I said, wiping another stray tear from my cheek. “Now can I please talk to him again?”

“Yeah, of course,” Roger said a little sheepishly. “Look, I’m not trying to make you feel worse. I only want to help.”

“I know, Roger, and thank you,” I said, trying to keep the edge from my voice.

“Here’s Brian…”

“Hey,” Brian said quietly into the phone. “I take it Roger’s suggestions weren’t helpful?”

“No,” I said, starting to feel completely wrung out emotionally. “The roads are very desolate that I’d have to take to Denver. There are stretches through Nevada where there is literally nothing for hundreds of miles. If I broke down again…”

“No, we can’t have that,” Brian interrupted. “I’m just… so disappointed.”

“I know, baby, believe me…”

I could hear Freddie’s voice in the background saying something to Roger then.

“Well, is he coming out with us or not?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Roger replied. “He’s on the phone with Carrie. He’s pretty upset.”

“Look, I guess I’d better go,” Brian said at last. “The fellas and I were going to go out and see the sights of Denver before it got dark.”

“Oh, right, of course,” I said, my heart twisting inside of my chest.

“You’re okay though, right? You’re settled in a hotel and everything?” Brian asked.

“Oh yeah,” I said as nonchalantly as I could. “I’m at Harrah’s. Room 305 if you need me.”

“Right. Okay,” Brian mumbled. “I’ll give you a call later then, all right?”

“Yeah. That’s fine. Have a good time in Denver.”

I set the phone back down on the hook and cried until I felt as though I couldn’t catch my breath. It hadn’t been my fault that my car had broken down, yet somehow, that was the overall feeling that I’d gotten from Brian. Like he was blaming me in some way for not trying harder to make it to Denver. I knew he was just upset, and that his emotions were wreaking havoc with his thoughts, but it did nothing but add insult to injury as far as I was concerned. I realized in that moment how truly vital it had been for us to see each other. It had been too long, and I was afraid that if things didn’t change for us soon, that it could spell disaster for our relationship.


	74. Chapter 74

It wasn’t until April 19th that I finally strolled back through the front door of my apartment feeling angry, frustrated, and utterly dejected. Thanks to my radiator hose not arriving at the mechanic’s on time, I was forced to spend an entire week in Reno with nothing to do but sit in smoky, seedy casinos and order free drinks as I dropped the occasional quarter into a slot machine. Not exactly my idea of a good time.

Eventually I got the call that my car was ready, and finally my dad arrived to escort me home, all while Brian moved on to Kansas City, Missouri and beyond with his band mates. I couldn’t get over the fact that he was in the States and I wasn’t going to be able to see him. It was like the proverbial carrot being dangled in front of the donkey’s nose. Brian was right there within my reach, yet I couldn’t get to him. It seemed that the Gods were conspiring against me, and I had no idea what I’d done to incur their wrath.

With such depressing thoughts still lingering in my mind, I tossed my keys on the coffee table, dropped my suitcase on the living room floor, and flopped onto my couch where I sat crying for a solid hour. And the rest of the weekend wasn’t much better. On Saturday I finally got around to clearing out my overly stuffed mailbox, which was filled with cheery letters from Brian telling me how much he was looking forward to seeing me in Denver. Every word, every line that he’d written felt like salt being poured into open wounds. By Sunday evening I decided that the only thing that would make me feel the least bit better was a large bowl of cookie dough. 

I was just mixing in the dry ingredients and about to go flop on the couch to watch TV with my bowl and spoon, when the phone rang. I turned off my mixer and looked at the clock, knowing that it was late. 10:15 to be precise. I quickly leafed through Queen’s tour schedule in my mind and remembered that the guys were in New Orleans, meaning that they were two hours ahead of me, and most certainly done with their show that night. My heart skipped a beat as I dashed to the phone, hoping that maybe, just maybe, it was Brian, and that we could talk over the whole Denver fiasco with slightly clearer heads and put it all behind us once and for all.

“Hello?” I breathed excitedly into the phone.

“Hey there old lady!”

My heart sank. It was Roger, and by the sound of his voice, he’d been drinking heavily. Again.

“Hi Rog,” I replied in a disheartened voice.

“Don’t sound so happy to hear from me!” Roger slurred caustically into the phone.

I put a finger in my free ear, trying desperately to hear Roger over the music and noise that was blaring in the background of wherever he was calling me from.

“Sorry,” I said loudly, trying to make sure that Roger could hear me. “I was just hoping that you were Brian.”

“Well, Brian’s got his hands a bit full right now, otherwise I’m sure he’d have called,” Roger said with a highly self-satisfied tone to his voice. I could practically see the crooked grin on his face through the phone line.

“Why?” I asked, a scowl starting to form between my brows. “What do you mean? What’s he doing?”

“Well…” Roger drawled. “At the moment he’s got a very pretty blonde called Peaches sitting on his lap.”

“What?!” I exclaimed angrily. “Where are you guys?!”

“At this amazing club in New Orleans called The Dungeon,” Roger replied. “Peaches is the club owner’s daughter, and she seems to have taken a bit of a fancy to your fiancé.”

I could feel that my blood pressure was about to go off the charts. My nostrils were flared, my breathing was ragged, and my lips were pressed into a very thin line, as I told Roger as calmly as possible, “Could you put Brian on the phone, please?”

“I figured you’d say that. Hang on a sec…” Roger moved the phone away from his mouth as he shouted out, “Brian! Brian!! You’re in a shitload of trouble, mate!”

All I could hear was the music and laughter in the background for a moment, then suddenly, I could just make out Brian’s voice as he asked Roger, “Who’s on the phone?” The word “who’s” came out sounding more like “hoosh” and I knew instantly that Brian had been drinking too. 

“It’s Carrie, dumb ass, and you’re in a lot of trouble!” Roger laughed.

“But how… How did she?” Brian mumbled. I could hear the faint sound of the receiver exchanging hands, and then Brian was on the line, saying, “Hello?”

“Who’s Peaches?” I demanded without so much as saying hello in reply.

“A friend,” Brian said quickly. “She’s just a friend.”

“Really?” I returned in a snarky tone. “And do you let all of your friends sit on your lap, or is this one just special?”

“Look, I didn’t know she was going to sit on my lap, she just… did it.”

“How much have you had to drink tonight?” I questioned, trying my hardest not to explode.

“I don’t… I don’t know,” Brian hiccupped. “Somebody bought us a couple bottles of Southern Comfort.”

“So, you’re drunk, and you’re flirting with some blonde slut!” I shouted, unable to hold in my anger any longer.

“She’s not a slut…” Brian railed.

“Oh my fucking God!” I screamed. “You’re defending her?! What else has gone on between the two of you?! How much more is there to this situation?!”

“Nothing! All right?!” Brian shouted. “I told you, she’s just a friend!”

“Uh-huh, and how many other _friends_ have there been on this tour, huh?! How many so called _friends_ have been with you in your hotel rooms?!”

“What?!” Brian exclaimed. “You don’t believe that I’ve been alone after every show?!”

“I don’t know what to believe now that I hear about some chick sitting on your lap!” I cried.

“You want to know the truth?!” Brian asked angrily. “I started talking to Peaches because she reminded me of you! Okay? She’s blonde and pretty and sweet, and since I’ve been so fucking depressed since Denver I thought I’d chat with her. There! That’s the truth!”

“Oh my God!” I fumed, shaking my head. “Typical man, aren’t you? You think you can just feed me a bunch of lines and I’m going to buy it hook, line and sinker!”

“They’re not lines! It’s the truth!” Brian cried. “You have no idea how torn up I’ve been inside, and all you do is get on the bloody phone and start screaming at me like a damned dog! What happened to the sweet lady that left me behind in England all those months ago?!”

“Sweet?!” I railed. “What am I, some kind of… of… _cheese??”_

I didn’t know why I’d said cheese. Of all the sweet foods in the world, cheese would normally have not been my first thought. Clearly my anger was keeping my brain from functioning properly.

“What?! No! And will you please stop shouting for God’s sake?!”

“How would you feel if the shoe was on the other foot?!” I exclaimed, trying to calm myself down, and failing miserably. “How did you feel when you thought the manager of my apartment complex was hitting on me?!”

“At least I didn’t call you up and start screaming at you like a mad person!”

I wanted so much to remind him that it was Roger who had called me, and not the other way around! Instead, I took a couple of deep breaths, trying to get the anger out of my system so that I could get to the bottom of things as calmly as I could. It wasn’t an easy task. I wanted nothing more than to scream and yell and shake Brian until I’d knocked some sense into him, but I knew that it was only going to backfire on me in the long run. If I angered him to the point that he hung up on me, then that would be it, there would be no going back. So instead, I made a concerted effort to lower my voice as my entire body shook with pent up anger and resentment.

“Look,” I began, “I want the truth from you. Did anything happen between you and this Peaches girl, or any other girl for that matter, since you and I have been apart? Because, I’m telling you now, Brian, if I find out that you’ve cheated on me, then that’s it, we’re over.”

“I haven’t cheated on you,” Brian said earnestly. “You’ve got to believe me. Tonight was the closest I’ve come to touching another girl, but nothing was going to happen, I swear. All I’m able to do is think about you and how long it’s been since I’ve seen you, and suddenly there’s this girl who reminded me so much of you, and… Look, it was stupid of me, okay? I’m sorry. Nothing like this is ever going to happen again.”

All of my pent up anger and pain suddenly turned into tears that slid down my cheeks of their own accord as I raked a shaky hand through my hair.

“You don’t know how hard this is for me,” I said at last, my voice quavering with emotion. “You don’t know what it’s like for me to sit here day after day by myself, knowing that you’re out on tour with a bevy of beautiful girls at your beck and call…”

“I don’t want any of them! Okay?” Brian pleaded. “You’re the only girl I want. You have to trust me! You have to believe in me! You and what we’ve got together is all I need.”

“I can’t live like this anymore Brian,” I sobbed. “I can’t live without you. Stanford’s spring semester is over in a month’s time, and I’m coming back to England with or without a job waiting there for me.”

“You mean it? You’re serious?” Brian asked hopefully.

“I mean it,” I stated firmly. 

Suddenly it was as if a light bulb switched on inside my head and I knew exactly what I needed to do. I had decided that no matter what, I would move back to England by the summertime, but that was no longer good enough. It wasn’t soon soon enough. I’d been so caught up in thinking that I had to have a job in hand and waiting for me in England before I could move back, that I’d completely lost sight of what was most important to me, and what was most important to me was being with Brian and marrying him so that we never had to be apart again, no matter the cost.

“I don’t care if we have to live like paupers until I find a job!” I went on. “I’m going to sell all of my stuff and use the money to buy my plane ticket back home!”

“When does spring semester end?” Brian asked excitedly.

“May 17th,” I answered.

“That’s just about the time that our tour ends! It’s perfect!” Brian exclaimed.

“And you won’t care if we have to pinch pennies for a little while until I find a job?” I asked, joy suddenly bubbling up inside my chest, threatening to explode into euphoric laughter if I wasn’t careful.

“Care?!” Brian exclaimed. “I’d fucking starve if it meant having you back home!”

“Then that settles it!” I cried. “Starting tomorrow, I’m going to put an ad in the paper and notices up around the university, and start selling off everything I own. I’ll tell my landlord that I’m moving out, I’ll tell Professor Matthews that I’m quitting my job, and I’ll have a plane ticket in hand and waiting by no later than this time next month!”

“This is happening – this is for real? You’re really coming back to me? No more being apart?”

“No more being apart,” I said, as a fresh round of tears fell from my eyes. Only this time, they were happy tears.

“I can’t believe this…” Brian mumbled into the phone. “You’ve made me the happiest man on earth! I’ve got to go tell the fellas!”

“Well, while you’re telling people things, do me a favor, and tell that Peaches chick that she’d better keep her damn hands off of you, since you’re soon going to be a married man!”

“Baby, that girl is long forgotten already! You’re the only one I need! I know it seems like we’ve been waiting forever, but you’re finally coming home!”

“I’m finally coming home,” I echoed. “I’m _finally_ coming home!”

It wasn’t possible for a person to feel any happier than I did in that moment.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

The next couple of weeks were so busy for me that I scarcely knew which end was up most days. The day after I’d spoken to Brian I set the wheels in motion and put up signs everywhere I could think of, advertising the fact that everything I owned had to be sold. And yes, that even meant my beloved Camaro. I had gone back and forth so many times in my mind over whether or not I could really part with my beautiful girl, but in the end, I decided that she had to go, no matter how much I loved her. My car was a symbol of my old life, my American life, and now that I was going to be living with Brian full time in England, I didn’t need it anymore. Plus, I knew that whatever money I might get for it might help feed Brian and me until I could get a job. It was a sacrifice that I had to make.

I immediately told Mark the apartment manager that I would be moving out of my place within the month, and then spent the next couple of days thoroughly cleaning everything I owned. From every piece of furniture I possessed to every nook and cranny of my car, everything was scrubbed from top to bottom, and it didn’t take long before things started to sell. One by one, I watched as my couch, kitchen table, dresser, bed and everything else marched out of my front door in the arms of its new owner. I boxed up the things that I wanted to have with me back in England, and told Brian over the phone one afternoon before Queen’s show in Providence, Rhode Island that I was going to ship the stuff to his parent’s house for safe keeping. Having agreed upon that, I mailed several boxes of knick-knacks, photos, books and more off to Feltham over the next few days. Once I was down to things like, dishes, towels, bed linens and other odds and ends, I decided that it was time to have a big yard sale. The spring weather was beautiful, and luckily, people seemed to be in a buying mood. By the end of the first weekend in May, I had very little left to get rid of, and enough money to purchase my plane ticket back to England. I didn’t buy it right away, since I still had some loose ends to tie up, but just knowing that I had the money in hand and ready to go made me feel like I was on cloud nine.

Fortunately for me, since I still had to get back and forth to work until mid-May, my car was one of the last things to go. I had a couple of people that I knew were both very interested in buying it, and set up a date for them to come to my apartment and take a look at it. I asked my dad to come up the same day and offer me a little moral support as well, otherwise I was afraid I might fling my body across the hood of my car and scream that no one would ever take her alive! Thankfully, in the end, I got what I was asking, and a very excited 18-year-old boy got his first car. I cried as I watched my girl being driven away, but I knew at the end of the day, that it was all for a greater cause.

I spent the next few days taking the bus to and from work, and scrubbing down my apartment when I was at home. I was determined to give my landlord no reason whatsoever not to give me back every penny of my deposit!

By the time Monday, May 13th rolled around, finals were in full swing. It was the last week of spring semester, and I was busier than ever at work, reading over student papers and grading exams as quickly as possible. I sat at my little desk in the corner of the classroom, gazing at one of my favorite photos of Brian that I’d stuck in a frame and taken to work, daydreaming about our little flat back home and how soon I was going to see it again. My last day of work was going to be on Friday, and since everything had been packed or sold and my apartment was clean and ready to move out of, I decided that it was time to finally make my arrangements for getting back to England. As soon as I was finished with work that afternoon that I was going to go to the nearest travel agent and book my flight home. I was so excited that I could barely concentrate on grading papers. It wasn’t until the classroom phone rang, making me nearly jump out of my skin from such a sudden, loud noise, that I decided that I’d better stop daydreaming. 

I turned to see if Professor Matthews wanted me to answer the phone, since he’d been finishing up a lecture, but he was already making his way across the room to pluck the receiver off the wall. I didn’t think much of it, deciding that it was probably just the admissions office looking for a student or something, and simply turned back to my papers. When Professor Matthews called out that the phone was for me, however, I instantly began to worry. I slowly got up from my desk and made my way across the room, a million thoughts racing through my head, wondering who on earth would be calling me at work. No one ever called me at work.

Professor Matthews passed the phone off to me with a smile, and cheerfully wandered back across the room to wind up his lecture.

“H-hello?” I said hesitantly into the receiver.

“Is this Professor Martin?” a woman’s voice asked me. I realized that it was the school’s operator.

“Yes, this is Professor Martin.”

“One moment please, I have a call on hold for you.”

I heard a couple of faint clicking noises, then Roger’s voice suddenly came over the line saying, “Er, hello? Carrie?”

I knew as soon as I heard his voice that something was wrong. There was no reason whatsoever for Roger to track me down at work unless something was wrong.

“Rog, yes, I’m here,” I said. “What’s going on?”

“I’m really sorry to bother you at work like this,” he began, “but it’s Brian.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and asked, “What do you mean? What’s wrong with Brian?”

“He’s quite ill,” Roger stated flatly. “The doctor just came round this morning, and they say he’s got hepatitis.”

“Hepatitis?! No, that’s… That’s not possible,” I said, feeling like my legs might buckle underneath me at any moment. “I just spoke with him a few days ago and he was fine.”

“This has all happened very suddenly,” Roger said. I’d never heard him sound more somber, and it scared the hell out of me. If Roger was worried, then I knew that things were bad. “He started feeling a little weak a few days ago, then night before last, he collapsed onstage at our last show in New York.”

“Oh my God…” I mumbled, my hand visibly shaking as I reached up to cover my mouth.

“We thought that maybe he was just coming down with something, so everyone told him to rest all day yesterday since we didn’t have a gig,” Roger went on. “But we got up this morning to start getting ready to go to Boston, and Brian’s skin was yellow. Mott’s manager called a doctor to the hotel room, and that’s when they diagnosed him with hepatitis.”

“But how?” I barely managed to choke out, tears now stinging the back of my eyes. “How could he have gotten hepatitis? That’s a very serious disease! It can permanently damage your liver.”

“Yes, I know. They reckon it’s from that needle the doctors used back home to give him his injections,” Roger explained. “The one that gave him the gangrene in his arm.”

“But, that was months ago…” I said, clapping my free hand to my forehead.

“I’m just telling you what they told me,” Roger said.

“Oh my God…” I mumbled again. “Is he okay? How is he doing? What are the doctors doing for him?”

“Well, they’ve said we’ve got to go home, in no uncertain terms,” Roger said. “It’s so bad that Mott’s managers have to get in touch with everyone that we’ve been in contact with and warn them in case they start developing symptoms. Brian’s so ill right now, that I honestly don’t know how the hell we’re going to get him on the plane…”

“Ill, ill how? What’s going on with him?” I asked.

“He’s been vomiting, he can’t keep anything down,” Roger replied. “And he’s so weak that he can barely stand.”

“So, what are the doctors going to do for him? Anything?” I asked in a panicked voice.

“It’s viral, there’s nothing they can give him. He just has to get home and rest.”

“But is it safe for him to travel in the condition he’s in?”

“There’s not much we can do about it whether it’s safe or not,” Roger said. “They’ve told us we have to leave. The doctors are worried that he might spread this to other people. We have to get home.”

“I’ve got to get to England,” I mumbled, half to myself and half to Roger. “I can’t let him go through this alone…”

“Actually, that’s sort of why I was calling,” Roger admitted. “He’s going to be at home isolated with this stuff for God knows how long. The doctors said it could be weeks before he’s well again. I hate the thought of putting you at risk of catching this…”

“Oh, I don’t care about that…” I interrupted, waving away his concern.

“Well, I didn’t figure you would, not where Brian’s concerned, and I know he’d be a lot easier if you were back home with him. He said you were leaving to come home soon anyway, right?”

“Yes, and I’m so glad that I haven’t bought my plane tickets yet…” I said distractedly, my mind already going a million miles an hour, trying to think of what I needed to do. “I’ve got to go make all of my arrangements, but tell Brian that I’m going to be home as soon as possible. When are you guys leaving?”

“In about three hours,” Roger said. “That was the soonest flight to London they could get us on.”

“Okay, listen to me, I know I don’t need to tell you this, but you, Freddie and John, please watch over him for me until I can get home,” I pleaded. “Call his mom if you haven’t already and let her know what’s going on. Tell him I love him and that I’m going to be on a flight to London as soon as humanly possible.”

“Will do,” Roger said. “Call me as soon as you know when you’ll be arriving and I’ll come pick you up at the airport, okay?”

“I will, so stay by the phone once you’re home!”

“Yes bossy,” Roger teased. He immediately turned serious again though and added, “Look, I know you’re worried, but he’s going to be all right, I’m sure of it.”

“I pray to God you’re right, Rog. I’d better go. I’ll see all of you soon… Oh, and Rog, thank you so much for calling me.”

“You’re welcome,” Roger said sweetly. “I’ll see you soon.”

I hung up the phone and leaned my forehead against the wall, trying to digest all of the information I’d just been given.

“Everything all right Professor Martin?”

I jumped at the sound of my name, and turned to see Professor Matthews gazing at me with a concerned look on his face.

“My God, something is wrong, isn’t it?” he went on. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

“It’s my fiancé,” I said. “I just found out that he’s seriously ill. I’ve got to get to England immediately.”

“Good heavens,” Professor Matthews said. “Will he be all right?”

“I don’t know…” I answered, running a hand through my hair. “I hate to leave you in the lurch like this. I know that finals are this week…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Professor Matthews said sincerely. “I can get another student in to help me grade papers. It shouldn’t be too difficult. What about you though? Can I do anything to help?”

“Um, I don’t think so,” I said distractedly. “I’ve just got to get home and start making phone calls…”

“Then get to it my dear,” Professor Matthews smiled warmly, patting me on the shoulder. 

I nodded and immediately made for my desk, gathering up the few personal items that I had at work. It was really just a few pens and a writing tablet that I’d brought from home, which I stuffed easily enough into my purse, along with my photo of Brian that always sat on top of my desk watching over me. I quickly explained to Professor Matthews which papers had been graded and which ones hadn’t, gave him a very heartfelt goodbye, then beat a hasty retreat out the door, running all the way through the school corridors and across the campus until I reached the bus stop.

As soon as I got home, the first thing I did was call my dad, explaining what had happened, and begging him to drive up to Palo Alto as quickly as possible to help me figure out what needed to be done with my apartment and the few things I had left in it. I had told my landlord that I wouldn’t be completely moved out for at least another week, and the inspection hadn’t been done yet, papers hadn’t been signed, keys hadn’t been turned over – there were a million loose ends that I no longer had time to deal with. I needed someone like my dad to help me sift through it all. And, most of all, I needed him to get me to the airport.

Once I knew that he was on his way, I immediately called the nearest travel agent, informing them that I had an emergency and had to get to London as soon as possible. I paced the floor of my living room as I waited for the lady to check the flights, and was relieved when I was told that there was a flight leaving at 11:00 pm that night from San Francisco that still had a few seats left. I immediately told her that I would take one, the only catch was that I had to get down to the travel agency to pick up the ticket before they closed. Luckily, the place was only a few blocks away, so I dug my plane fare out of a kitchen drawer, stuffed it into my purse, and practically ran all the way into old town Palo Alto where the agency was located.

With my ticket in hand, I rushed back home and dug my suitcase out of the closet, filling it with all of my last minute clothes and things that I hadn’t shipped off to Brian’s parents. I paced nervously around my apartment until my dad arrived, trying to eat at least a bowl of cereal to keep my strength up, but I couldn’t even choke down my favorite Lucky Charms. All I could do was picture Brian, weak and yellow and vomiting, being dragged on board a plane for a long flight that he was in no fit state to endure. I was going to worry myself to death over him, until I could actually see him again with my own two eyes and know that he was okay. 

Despite everything, though, at least I was going back to London and my precious little flat that I’d missed so desperately. It might not have been the type of homecoming that I’d wanted or planned for, but I would be with Brian again, through sickness and through health, and that thought alone was all that was keeping my spirits up.


	75. Chapter 75

I stood near the baggage claim at Heathrow Airport, my suitcase sitting on the floor on one side of me, my carry on bag on the other, as I chewed nervously on a fingernail, waiting with bated breath for Roger to arrive and take me home. I glanced down at my watch again, and the time was only two minutes later than the last time I’d checked. I had called Roger at a few minutes past three in the afternoon, right after my plane had landed, and he told me that he’d be at the airport within a half hour. It had now been exactly thirty-two minutes since I’d spoken to him.

I let out a long sigh, shifted my weight from one foot to the other, and looked around the airport at the sea of people buzzing around me. I was standing near a wall so that I would be out of the way of the crowd of people swarming the conveyor belts all vying to find their luggage. I was worried that I might be so inconspicuous that Roger might not see me at all. My blonde hair and pale skin did sort of blend in with the beige wall that I was standing against after all. But then, about 20 yards away, walking toward me down a long hallway, I could see the shaggy blonde hair that I remembered so well, and my heart felt like it might take flight. Roger looked about the same only his hair was a little longer and even messier than it had been before I’d left. He was wearing a pair of faded jeans, a black button down shirt and a blue leather blazer that I hadn’t seen before. He was most definitely a sight for sore eyes. 

I smiled and waved frantically, and soon I saw the look of recognition dawn on Roger’s face as he smiled back at me.

“Hey! There you are!” Roger called out as he came toward me with outstretched arms.

I knew that it probably wasn’t normal, or even very healthy, for one to want to throw their arms around their ex-boyfriend, but it was so good to see one of the guys again after nearly a year, that I just couldn’t help myself. I ran forward to close the distance between us and reached up to wrap my arms around Roger’s neck as he pulled me in for a warm embrace. The old familiar scents of cigarettes and leather and cologne filled my nostrils, and I finally felt like I was home.

“My God it’s good to see you again,” I whispered, trying to hold back the tears. 

“You too,” Roger whispered back.

I pulled away from him and smiled as I said, “Well, let me take a good look at you…” I reached up to touch his hair, which was cascading over his shoulders in messy waves, his bangs now grown out and hanging down around the sides of his face, as I asked him, “Going for a new look?”

“I don’t know,” Roger grinned. “It’s something different I guess. You look about the same though.”

“What can I say?” I shrugged. “You know me. I’ve never exactly been a slave to fashion.”

“True,” Roger laughed. “So, are you ready to get home?”

“You have no idea how ready I am,” I answered.

We gathered up my things and made our way out to Roger’s car, which looked exactly the same as I remembered. We loaded my stuff into the trunk and climbed into the driver’s and passenger seats, and I’d never been so happy to see cigarette butts dangling out of an ashtray in all my life! It was so reassuring to know that some things never changed.

We zipped through the outskirts of London at Roger’s usual break neck speed as I asked, “So, how is Brian doing? Is anyone home with him right now?”

“His mum and dad are there,” Roger replied. “And the doctor is supposed to be coming round in a couple of hours I think. He’s mainly just been resting. I’ve been so busy all morning trying to get some of my things settled in Sam’s place though, that it’s been hard for me to keep an eye on him.”

“Settled in Sam’s place?” I asked.

“Yeah, well, now that you’re home, I didn’t think you’d want me hanging around the flat anymore, so I’m moving in with Sam,” Roger explained.

“Oh! Well, that’s fantastic!” I smiled. “I’m so glad that you guys are still together and that everything is good between you. How is she anyway? I haven’t gotten to talk to her in ages!”

“She’s great,” Roger said with a heartfelt smile. “I couldn’t believe how good it felt to see her again when we got in this morning. You know, when we toured the UK, Sam was able to come with us, but Mott’s managers wouldn’t let her or Mary or Veronica come with us on the U.S. tour because there was just too much expense involved. It was the longest we’d been apart since we’ve been together, and I really, really missed her. I don’t know how you and Brian have done it. I’d have lost my mind after the first week!”

“It hasn’t been easy, believe me,” I said.

“You know, I didn’t want to tell you this while you were in the States, because I didn’t want you to feel worse than you already did, but that poor man has been so lonely without you,” Roger said, shaking his head slightly as he looked to his left before making a turn, narrowly missing a parked car as he did so. “The first couple of months after you left, we could barely mention your name, because it threw him into a tailspin every time we did. Then the band got so busy that it seemed to take his mind off of things a little, but there were nights when Sam and I would be in the living room together, and we could hear Brian crying in the bedroom. I’ve never seen a person so sad in my entire life. Don’t you dare tell him that I told you any of this, of course, or I’ll deny everything…”

“I won’t say a word,” I promised, fighting back the tears that were threatening to spill down my cheeks. Thank God I was home, I kept thinking to myself as we drove closer to the heart of London. Thank God I was back in England where I belonged.

I’d never been so happy to see a building in my entire life, as I was to see the building that housed my flat. Roger pulled up in front of the coffee shop, which looked just the same as it always did, and there, parked right in front of Roger’s car, was Brian’s Mini, looking slightly worse for wear with a small dent in the back bumper.

“What happened to Brian’s car?” I asked Roger as I pointed out the obvious ding.

“Oh, that…” Roger replied hesitantly. “I, um, I may have accidently tapped the back of his car with mine back in February when the road was icy.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me somehow…” I sighed, shaking my head as I reached for the door handle of Roger’s car.

We hauled my things out of Roger’s trunk, and trudged up the familiar stairs that led to my old front door. I could feel the emotions bubbling up inside of me before Roger ever even turned the knob, but as soon as the door was flung open, I couldn’t help but tear up as I laid eyes on the home that I hadn’t seen for nearly a year.

“Ah, good, you’re back,” said Brian’s dad Harold, who was sitting comfortably in our living room chair, his feet outstretched in front of him as he puffed his pipe and read over the day’s newspaper. 

Brian’s mom Ruth suddenly popped out of the kitchen at the sound of our entrance, and immediately her face split into a wide grin as soon as she saw me.

“Carrie!” she exclaimed, walking toward me with her arms outstretched. “It’s so lovely to see you!”

“It’s so good to see you too!” I said, my voice cracking with emotion as I wrapped my arms around her for a warm hug.

“It’s a shame that it took something so dire for you to have to come home, but I’m so glad that you did,” Ruth smiled, as she pulled away from me and looked me over, rubbing her hands over my arms in a comforting manner. “Brian will be so happy to see you.”

“Do I hear my name being taken in vain?” a feeble voice said from across the room.

I looked around Ruth, and there, leaning against the doorframe of the bedroom door, was my beautiful Brian, looking sickly and weak, but still managing a big smile for me regardless.

“My poor baby…” I whispered, as I raced across the room, tears streaming from my eyes. Brian wrapped me up in his arms and squeezed me as tightly as he could despite the fact that his body was sapped of strength. We held each other and cried, our bodies swaying in a slight rocking motion, the pain and anguish that we’d felt for nearly a year being washed away in an instant as we melted into one another once again.

“God how I’ve missed you,” Brian managed to choke out. “I was starting to think that you’d just been a figment of my imagination, and that maybe you didn’t exist at all.”

“I think that may be your fever talking,” I laughed. I could feel the heat radiating from his body, and pulled away to get a better look at him. His skin was pale and the whites of his eyes looked yellow. His hair was completely disheveled, and he looked even thinner than usual. Despite all of that, however, I thought he looked like the most beautiful thing I’d ever laid eyes on, with his plaid pajama bottoms drooping around his waist, and his old Who t-shirt looking more faded and worn than ever. He was perfect in every way. I reached up to feel his forehead and proclaimed, “You feel really warm.”

“I took his temperature about an hour ago, and it was nearly 39 degrees,” Ruth informed me.

“39,” I scowled, gazing up at Brian’s tired looking eyes. “I’m not exactly sure how much that is in Fahrenheit, but it doesn’t sound good. Have you taken any aspirin?”

“Yes, right after I took my temperature,” Brian replied. “It helped a little, but I feel really hot now.”

“That’s your fever trying to come down,” I said. I wrapped my arm around his waist and told him, “Come on, you need to lie back down.”

Brian didn’t put up any resistance, as I guided him back toward our bed. Out in the living room, meanwhile, I could hear Ruth saying, “Roger, do you ever pick up after yourself dear?”

“Um…” Roger answered hesitantly.

“Do you know that I’m soaking four teacups caked with congealed tea in the kitchen sink that I found near your bed?” Ruth scolded.

“Oh, er, that might explain the odd smell in the living room before we left for the States…” Roger remarked.

“I also found a pair of ladies knickers,” Ruth went on.

“Were they pink?” Roger asked with amused interest. “I bet those are the ones that Sam’s been looking for…”

“Well, you might want to tell your girlfriend to be more careful with her undergarments in the future!” Ruth chided, her voice trailing off into the kitchen once again.

“Yeah, I will,” Roger replied. I could feel him smirking all the way in the bedroom. “Sorry about that Mrs. May!”

“Has this been going on since your parents arrived?” I grinned as I helped Brian back into bed.

“Very nearly,” Brian groaned as he laid back down gingerly. “This morning my mum was griping at Roger because we’d left for the States with his bed unmade, then she was grumbling about the pile of dirty clothes he’d left sitting on the floor. Between that and Roger making so much noise coming in and out of the flat all day, packing up things to take to Sam’s place, it’s been very difficult to rest.”

“My poor baby,” I soothed, smoothing back the hair from Brian’s forehead as I laid down next to him. “How have you been feeling anyway?”

“Terrible,” Brian confessed. “I can’t eat, I can barely drink, and I usually end up throwing up anything that I manage to get down. Half of the time I feel hot, half of the time I feel cold, and my muscles ache from head to toe.”

Brian turned over onto his side then to face me.

“With you here now, I’m bound to start feeling better though,” he grinned, as he reached out to run his fingers along my arm. His expression quickly turned to a scowl however as he pulled his hand away from my arm and reached for his stomach. “Oh God. I don’t think I should have rolled over onto my side quite so quickly…”

I watched helplessly as Brian hastily rolled back over and off of the bed, racing as quickly as he could into the bathroom, where he promptly began vomiting into the toilet. I followed right behind him, and rubbed his back soothingly, murmuring that everything was going to be okay as he threw up what little was in his stomach. It absolutely broke my heart to see him feeling so ill. I told him that the best thing he could do for himself was get some sleep, and walked him back to the bed where he collapsed feebly onto his back. I decided that for now, my services would be put to best use playing referee out in the living room, trying to keep everyone quiet so that Brian could get some rest. So once I was satisfied that Brian was comfortable I kissed his forehead and wandered back out into the living room, closing the bedroom door behind me.

“How is he doing?” Harold asked me from the living room chair.

“Not well, I’m afraid,” I replied. “He just threw up again.”

“I don’t know how he’s got anything left in his stomach to throw up. He’s only had a cup of weak tea since we’ve been home,” Roger commented as he tossed a pile of books from his bookshelf into a cardboard box sitting on the couch. The noise instantly made me cringe. 

“Rog, I know you need to pack up your stuff, but you really need to be more quiet,” I said as nicely as I could. “Brian’s been having a hard time getting any sleep.”

“I told you that you were being too noisy, lad,” Harold interjected before taking a long puff from his pipe.

“Sorry,” Roger scowled, turning to look at me. “I didn’t think he’d be able to hear me all the way in the bedroom.”

“It’s just the next room over, you know,” I chided, as I gave Roger a withering look. “Listen, let me go see if Ruth needs any help in the kitchen really quick, then I’ll help you pack up some of your stuff. Quietly. Okay?”

“Yeah, fine,” Roger conceded, reaching for another stack of books. “And I’ll be more careful in the meantime.”

I nodded and turned to head into the kitchen, where I could hear Ruth clinking dishes noisily in the sink. Between the noise that she was making and the noise that Roger was making, and the awful stench of Harold’s pipe, it was no wonder that Brian couldn’t get any rest. I knew that they all meant well, but it was obvious that I was going to have to get everyone to leave as soon as humanly possible so that Brian and I could have our cozy little flat back to ourselves again.

“Ruth, you don’t need to do the dishes,” I smiled sweetly as I entered the kitchen.

“Oh, well, I just thought I’d help out,” Ruth replied as she scrubbed out a teacup with a soapy dishrag. “You should have seen the state of this place when I arrived. You would have been appalled by the condition that these boys reduced it to while you were gone.”

I found myself wondering how she would react if she ever discovered that I was nearly as much of a slob as they were.

“Listen, why don’t you let me take over for you,” I offered. “I know that the guys probably got you and Harold up pretty early this morning.”

“No, no, it’s perfectly fine,” Ruth smiled, moving on to the next grimy teacup, obviously with no intention of laying down her dishrag. “You’ve just been through a long tiring flight. Why don’t you go rest?”

“No, I can’t. I feel like I need to be doing something,” I replied. I noticed the cat’s empty food and water dish sitting on the floor underneath the kitchen window, and asked Ruth, “Where’s our little cat Harold at, by the way?”

“Oh, he’s still at our place,” Ruth answered. “We thought about bringing him with us this morning, but we were in such a hurry to come over that we didn’t want to take the time to gather up all of his things. I hope you don’t mind. We’ll only stay until after the doctor comes this evening, and then perhaps we can bring little Harold by tomorrow when we come over to check up on Brian.”

“Sure, that would be fine,” I said genially.

The good news, I supposed, was that Harold and Ruth were only going to stick around for a couple more hours. The bad news was that it seemed as though these check up visits might become a regular thing. But, I supposed I couldn’t blame Ruth, really. Brian was her baby, after all, and he was terribly ill. If he’d been my child I would have likely done the same. I really was looking forward to having Brian and my flat and all of my things back to myself again, though, and couldn’t wait for the hour when the doctor had finally come and gone. 

“Oh, I was meaning to ask you,” I said, as a thought occurred to me. “Did you get all of the boxes I shipped to your house?”

“Yes, we did,” Ruth replied. “They’re all safe and sound in Brian’s old bedroom. We can bring those tomorrow too if you like.”

“That would be great,” I said.

“And I wanted to tell you too,” Ruth went on, “that I went to the market earlier and bought a few of the things that I thought you and Brian might need. There was almost no food in the house when we arrived, other than some curdled milk and a few bottles of beer in the fridge, so I bought some fresh milk and eggs and tea, and picked up a few things for Brian like aspirin, tinned soup and a few boxes of jelly.”

“Oh, well thank you, Ruth,” I said sincerely, suddenly feeling like a bit of a heel for wishing her out of my flat just a moment before. “That was very kind of you.”

“Oh, it was nothing,” Ruth told me, waving away my concern with a flick of her soapy dishrag. “I knew that you’d have plenty to keep you busy once you got home, and I thought that shopping would be one less thing for you to worry about.”

Just then there was a small crash out in the living room, followed immediately by Roger yelling, “Damn it!” as quietly as he could.

“I think I’d better go see if he needs any help,” I told Ruth, rolling my eyes slightly as I made my way back out of the kitchen.

When I reentered the living room, I found Roger sitting on the couch massaging his foot while the box he’d been filling with books lay torn apart on the floor with books strewn everywhere.

“What happened?” I asked.

“Bloody box fell apart when I picked it up off the couch,” Roger griped, as he continued to rub his left foot, which I assumed that the box had fallen on.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Roger grumbled irritably.

I nodded and decided that I’d better get the situation under control before any further mess or noise was made. I bent down to start gathering up books and asked Roger, “Are you planning on staying at Sam’s tonight?”

“Yeah,” he replied. “Why?”

“Is there anything that you need to pack and take with you that you’ll need right away?” I asked.

“Er, yeah, some clothes and things,” Roger said, as he reached down to help me stack his books. “Some of my stuff is in my suitcase, though, which I already took to Sam’s.”

“Well, maybe you should pack up stuff that you need for right now instead of worrying about your books,” I suggested. 

“I’ve got to pack everything eventually,” Roger argued.

“Yes, I know,” I said as patiently as possible. “But I’m trying to keep the chaos inside the flat to a minimum right now.”

Part of me just wanted him to hurry up and get everything packed and done with, and another part of me wanted him to just go and leave everything until another day. Then it hit me that Roger shouldn’t really be my problem to deal with at all. It was time to call in reinforcements.

“Tell you what,” I said. “Why don’t you call Sam and have her come by, and maybe she can help you pack up some of your things to take with you tonight, and the rest you can come back for later if you have to.”

“Why do I need Sam to help me pack?” Roger questioned.

I wanted so badly to say, “Because then she can help babysit you while I do other things!” Instead I said, “Because that way we’ll have another pair of hands to help out, and you’ll have a second car to load things into.”

“I suppose so,” Roger conceded. He stood up, testing out his foot rather gingerly to make sure nothing was broken, then said, “I’ll just give her a call then.”

As soon as he mentioned the word “call” it reminded me that I was supposed to call my parents and let them know that I’d arrived safely in England. So as soon as Roger was done with the phone I called my mom in Fresno to let her know that I was still in one piece, then called my dad in Palo Alto, where he was staying in my old apartment for a day or two until all the final paperwork and inspections had been completed. I had so much to worry about both in England and in America that I was already completely mentally exhausted, and I wasn’t quite sure how I was ever going to get everything sorted out in order to regain the peace in my life once again.

Soon there was a quiet knock at the door, and I was happy to see when I answered it, that it was Sam. I threw my arms around her and hugged her, asking, “How have you been? It’s so good to see you!”

“I’m good!” said Sam. “I bet you’re happy to be back home!”

“Oh my God, you have no idea,” I sighed, pulling away slightly so that I could get a better look at her. She really hadn’t changed much since I’d left, I was happy to see, and it definitely did my heart good to set eyes on her once again and see that she still appeared to be the same old Sam that I knew and loved.

“I’m so sorry about Brian,” she said, reaching out to pat my arm reassuringly. “Is he going to be okay?”

“I think so,” I said. “His mom arranged for a doctor to come by in a little while, so we’ll know more after he sees him.”

“Well that’s good. Hopefully he’ll be up and around in no time. Especially since I know that you’re both looking forward to spending some time alone together,” Sam said to me with a wink and a nudge.

I blushed slightly, forgetting how blunt Sam could sometimes be, but nodded my agreement just the same.

“So,” Sam said with an impish grin, glancing around me to where Roger was re-boxing his books. “You need me to help get this guy of mine packed up and out of your hair, huh?” 

“Yes, that would be great,” I chuckled. “Preferably in a quiet and orderly fashion, since Roger dropped an entire boxful of books on his foot once already.”

“All right my dear,” Sam said to Roger, shaking her head slightly, as she walked around me and further into the living room. “Where should we get started?”

“I just want you to know that this was all her idea,” Roger complained, pointing across the room at me. “I was doing perfectly fine boxing things up on my own.”

“Of course you were, babe,” Sam smiled, patting Roger encouragingly on the back as if she were trying to appease a small child. “Now let’s see what we’ve got left to pack…”

Between the three of us, we managed to get the rest of Roger’s books along with all of his records and knick-knacks boxed up and out to Sam’s car within an hour’s time. We quietly took turns tiptoeing into the bedroom after that to gather up all of Roger’s clothes out of the closet and his dresser, taking extra care not to disturb Brian, who was finally sleeping, and soon pretty much all that was left was Roger’s furniture, which Roger planned to haul away within the next couple of days with the help of John Harris. Roger’s cat Lola, I discovered, had already been safely ensconced over at Sam’s place the whole time that the guys were in the States, so other than having to deal with the nuisance of Roger’s bed and dresser and bookshelves being in the way for the next day or two, there wasn’t really much else for me to have to worry about as far as Roger was concerned.

I waved and smiled and bid both Roger and Sam a friendly goodbye as they made their way down the stairs, each carrying one last bundle of Roger’s clothes as they went. I shut the front door, and thought to myself, Roger down, only Harold and Ruth left to go.

It wasn’t long before the doctor showed up and we were forced to wake Brian so that he could be examined. After checking Brian’s temperature, blood pressure and pulse, and then asking him a myriad of questions about his symptoms, the doctor essentially reiterated the exact same thing that the doctor in New York had said. Brian had a serious case of hepatitis that was most likely brought on by the dirty vaccination needle that had nearly taken his arm, and it could be weeks, if not months, before he was well again. More than that, because hepatitis was viral, there were no antibiotics or any other kinds of prescribed medications that would help ease his symptoms. The only option for getting well was to stay home and be placed on bed rest for a minimum of six weeks with no strenuous physical activity. Clear liquids were recommended until Brian could start to hold things down again, and aspirin could be taken every four hours to help ease his aches and pains and bring down his fever. The yellowing of Brian’s skin and eyes would likely subside soon, we were told, and if it didn’t, then we had cause for concern, because it might be a sign that his liver had been adversely effected by the disease.

I listened to everything the doctor had to say, and made several mental notes of what I needed to do in order to take care of Brian and pull him through this whole ordeal relatively unscathed. The first order on the agenda was to get him some peace and quiet, so I was thankful when not only the doctor, but Harold and Ruth as well, finally decided that it was time to leave. I thanked everyone profusely, gave Ruth a warm hug and told her that I’d see both her and Harold the following day, then shut the door behind them all and breathed a sigh of relief.

“Are they gone?” Brian asked hopefully from the bedroom doorway as he pulled his Who t-shirt back over his head, which he had taken off so that the doctor could listen to his chest and lungs.

“Yes, they’re gone,” I smiled, leaning my back against the front door. “And you’re not supposed to be out of bed.”

“You’re going to be worse than my mother about making sure that I follow doctor’s orders, aren’t you?” Brian teased, trying to sound annoyed, even though the sparkle never left his eyes.

“Yes, I am,” I grinned, quirking an eyebrow Brian’s way, “because I seem to recall the doctor saying that you couldn’t participate in any kind of strenuous activity for a while, therefore, we need to get you better, because I can think of one strenuous activity that I’m very eager for you to participate in.”

“You know, you’re right,” Brian said, stretching his arms above his head as he yawned exaggeratedly. “Bed rest seems like a good idea.”

I laughed, turning off the lights in the living room and kitchen, and followed Brian into the bedroom, where we snuggled together under the covers, just talking and catching up before finally falling soundly asleep in each other’s arms.


	76. Chapter 76

Three weeks had passed since I’d come back home to London, and I was thrilled to see that Brian was making slow but steady progress. The yellow tinge had faded from his skin and eyes, which meant that we no longer had to worry about his liver being damaged, and his strength was coming back a little at a time. His stomach was still giving him a bit of trouble, and he still occasionally felt nauseous, but he was holding food down for the most part, and the color was slowly starting to return to his cheeks. Although I loved every minute of coddling and caring for him, it did my heart good to see him feeling at least a little better.

It was now the 5th of June, and I was just waking up from a lovely dream where Brian and I were wandering around the streets of London holding hands and laughing. His hepatitis had somehow miraculously been cured, and we were talking and shopping and having a great time just like the old days. My heart was filled with such joy that I found myself waking up with an enormous grin spreading from ear to ear. I reached across the bed to wrap an arm around Brian, but all I felt were cold empty sheets beside me. My eyes fluttered open and I glanced around the bedroom groggily, thinking that perhaps Brian was changing his clothes, or that he’d gone into the bathroom. The bathroom was empty and dark, however, and Brian was nowhere to be seen.

I pulled back the covers and got out of bed, folding my arms across my chest in an attempt to ward off the chilly morning air. It never ceased to amaze me how cold English mornings could be in a month like June. I was obviously going to have to reacclimatize myself to the weather. I wandered into the living room, and found Brian standing in front of the window in his t-shirt and pajama bottoms, leaning his hands on the windowsill, as he peered out at the crisp sunny morning beyond.

“Hey you,” I croaked out as I wrapped my arms around Brian’s waist from behind.

“Good morning,” Brian sighed, reaching around to wrap an arm around my shoulders, as he pulled me into his side.

“What’s wrong?” I asked. I could tell from the lackluster “Good morning” that I received that something was bothering him.

“I don’t know,” Brian said in a soft voice. “I think I’m just getting, what do you Americans call it? Cabin fever?”

I let out a quiet laugh and said, “Yep, that’s what we call it. And I figured that you were going to start suffering from it before long.”

“I just can’t stand to see the weather looking this nice and not be able to go out and enjoy it,” Brian said with a shake of his head. “I mean, you know as well as I do how rare it is in England to see the sun shining this brightly.”

“I know baby,” I sympathized, snuggling even closer into his side. “But you know what the doctor said, no strenuous activity for six weeks.”

“It wouldn’t be strenuous for me to just _sit_ outside, surely?” Brian scoffed.

“No, I suppose not,” I said after a bit of thought. “I just don’t want you overdoing it.”

“I won’t overdo it, I swear,” Brian promised. “I just need some fresh air.”

I knew exactly how he felt. Other than making the occasional quick trip down to the corner market to fetch something that we needed, I hadn’t really been out of the flat for three weeks either. I stared longingly out the window at our empty little garden patch, which was now full of weeds with nearly two years of disuse, and a thought occurred to me.

“Think Roger’s home right now?” I asked Brian suddenly.

Brian gave me a puzzled look in reply, and said, “Why?”

“Cause I want to go somewhere and get something, but I need someone to take me,” I answered. “You’re still too sick to drive, so I thought maybe I’d call Roger.”

“I don’t know,” Brian shrugged. “Call him if you want, I guess. What is it you want to buy?”

“It’s a surprise,” I smiled. “You’ll be okay if I’m gone for about an hour or so, won’t you?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Brian assured me, giving my shoulders a quick squeeze.

I phoned Roger and he agreed to come by and pick me up since he was about to go out and run a few errands of his own anyway. I ran into the bedroom to get dressed, quickly tossing on an old t-shirt and a pair of jeans before brushing my teeth and scraping my hair back into a ponytail. I certainly wasn’t going to make the pages of Vogue, but I looked good enough for where I wanted to go.

I made sure that Brian was settled on the couch before I left, the TV remote nearby, along with a plate of toast and a cup of tea for breakfast sitting on the coffee table in front of him. Roger arrived at the flat and I gave Brian a quick kiss before grabbing my purse and heading out the door.

“So, how’s Bri doing?” Roger asked as we descended the stairs.

“Better,” I smiled.

“Excellent, I’m glad to hear it,” Roger smiled back. “Freddie’s been dying to get everyone together to come over and visit you two, but he didn’t want to bother Brian if he was still feeling ill.”

“You know, it would be nice to have all of you come over one of these days,” I replied, as we made our way out into the morning sunlight. “I think that might cheer Brian up a little.”

“Good, I’ll tell Freddie then,” Roger said as he unlocked the passenger side door of his car for me. “So, where are we off to anyway?”

“Oaktree Garden Centre on the outskirts of town,” I answered.

“What? A garden center?” Roger grimaced. “You ducks are back to your strange habits again, aren’t you?”

“What’s so strange about a garden center?” I asked defensively, as I plopped down into the passenger seat of Roger’s car.

“Nothing, if you’re 80,” Roger argued.

“Oh, just shut up and take me to the damn place!” I grumbled.

Roger rolled his eyes and closed the car door before walking around to the driver’s side.

It took us about 20 minutes to finally hunt the place down, especially since I couldn’t remember exactly where it was located. Once we found it though, I quickly sifted through the vegetable plants and seed packets, coming up with a small selection for the little garden behind my flat. I picked up a couple of small trowels as well, along with two camping style folding chairs and a new nozzle for the garden hose, since I recalled that the old one wasn’t working very well the last time I’d seen it. I paid for everything, and Roger and I were faced with the task of loading all of my newly acquired stuff into his tiny trunk. Somehow we squeezed it all in, and soon we were off and running, heading back in the direction of my flat.

Once we’d arrived, instead of taking everything upstairs, I had Roger follow me out to the back of my building, our arms loaded down with bags, camping chairs, and cardboard boxes filled with potted plants. We set everything down near the small vegetable patch and I looked up at the window of my flat, hoping that Brian wasn’t watching us. Luckily he wasn’t. I set up the two chairs and laid out all the plants, seed packets and trowels before heading for the hose to replace the faulty spray nozzle. I thanked Roger for being kind enough to give me a ride to the garden center, and walked him back to the front door of my building, giving him one last wave as I watched him drive away.

I ran upstairs and found Brian right where I’d left him, sitting on the couch watching TV, his empty plate and teacup sitting on the coffee table in front of him.

“Hey you, I’m back,” I smiled, dropping my purse onto the kitchen table.

“Hey,” Brian smiled back. “Where’d you go? Where’s Roger?”

“He took off already,” I said, as I crossed the room toward the couch. “And I’ve got a surprise for you outside, so put on a pair of old shorts or something.”

“You’ve got a surprise that requires me wearing old shorts?” Brian grinned.

“Yep, so get a move on buddy,” I replied, reaching out for Brian’s hand to hoist him off of the couch.

We both changed into old grubby t-shirts and shorts, then headed downstairs to the back garden, where I raced ahead of Brian to the little display I’d made, holding my hands aloft as I said, “Ta da!”

“Where did all this come from?” Brian grinned.

“Oaktree Garden Centre, the same place where we got the stuff for the garden two years ago,” I said. “Look, I even replaced the faulty spray nozzle on the hose.”

I demonstrated this fact by picking up the hose, squeezing the trigger on the nozzle and shooting a stream of water up into the air.

“Now, don’t think that because I got all this stuff that you have to do a bunch of work,” I went on, laying the hose back down on the ground. “You’re going to take a seat in one of these chairs while I do all the weeding. Once the soil is ready, then I thought that maybe you and I could sit down on the ground and plant the things that I bought, but only if you feel up to it. I don’t want you to overdo it.”

“This is so perfect,” Brian laughed, the old sparkle starting to return to his gorgeous hazel eyes. “You couldn’t have gotten anything else that would have made me feel any better.”

“Well, I know you like gardening,” I shrugged. “And I wanted you to be able to get out and do something where you wouldn’t have to overexert yourself.”

“Like I said, it’s perfect,” Brian grinned, reaching out to grab me around the waist. He pulled me in for a quick hug and kiss, then said, “I don’t like the idea of you having to do all the work though. There’s a lot of weeds here.”

“I’ll be fine,” I assured him. “It’s not that big of a space.”

I got Brian settled into one of the folding chairs, then grabbed our large gardening shovel and started to work, digging up the weeds and turning over the soil one clump of dirt at a time.

“You know, I take back what I said,” Brian teased, giving me a crooked grin. “I _do_ like you doing all the work. Especially when you have to bend over in those short shorts you’ve got on.”

I paused in my digging just long enough to lean on the shovel handle momentarily, glaring at Brian through narrowed eyes as I returned his crooked grin. 

“Someone must be feeling better,” I said with a quirked eyebrow.

“Hepatitis or not, a man can still look at a pretty girl, right?” Brian asked innocently.

“As long as the girl is me, then yes, I’m perfectly fine with that,” I laughed, digging the shovel back into the soil to turn over another clump of weeds.

“Are you happy to be back in England?” Brian asked me.

“Now what kind of question is that?” I grinned, reaching down to toss another bunch of weeds onto the pile I’d started.

“I mean, were you sorry at all to leave California?” Brian went on.

“Not in the least,” I assured him. “Don’t get me wrong, I love California, but this is home now. Wherever you’re at, is where I want to be.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that,” Brian said, “because with all the chaos of my illness, I haven’t had a chance to tell you that Queen is already scheduled to do another tour soon.”

“What?” I asked, straightening up and leaning on the shovel handle once more.

“Another tour of America in September, as soon as we’ve finished recording the next album,” Brian explained. “Only this time, we’re going to be the headlining act. No more support gigs.”

“So, when are you guys going back into the studio? When exactly is this tour?” I asked. 

I’d been so engrossed in getting Brian well, that I hadn’t even stopped to think about Queen’s upcoming plans. Not to mention the fact that in my mind, I still saw the guys as that fledgling little rock group that I’d left behind nearly a year before. I tended to forget sometimes that they not only had one album out in the stores now, but two, and that their last single, _Seven Seas of Rhye,_ had cracked the UK top 10. Queen was big business now, so it was only natural that more albums and tours were soon to follow. 

“Well, the plan, as it stands now, is for the fellas and me to start rehearsing our next album by the end of this month. I think Trident is sending us to Rockfield Studios in Wales,” Brian said. “Then we’ll start recording at Trident, and the album needs to be finished up by August because we’re already booked to tour the States in September.”

“Wow,” I said matter-of-factly. “That’s a lot to take in. Why Wales? And what if you’re not better by the end of this month?”

“I’ve got to be,” Brian answered. “With the success of _Seven Seas of Rhye,_ Trident is eager for us to start the next album. And I think Norman and Barry Sheffield want us to try out a different recording studio as a slight change of scene, hence the trip to Wales. Rockfield is supposed to be one of the best studios in Britain though, so I’m quite eager to have a go.”

“Well, I’m quite eager for you to be 100% well again,” I contended. “Do you really think being so far away from home is such a good idea at this point?”

“It’s still a couple weeks away,” Brian shrugged. “I should be all better by then. I’m already doing much better now than when I first came home. What I really wish is that I could get together with the fellas soon. We need to start going over all the songs we’ve got written and decide what we want to put on the next album. This stupid illness of mine has really set us back.”

“Look, don’t start blaming yourself,” I told him as I shoveled up another clump of dirt. “It wasn’t your fault that some dumb ass doctor gave you a shot with a dirty needle. If it makes you feel any better though, Roger did say something about everybody coming over to see you one of these days soon, and I told him that I thought it was a good idea. Of course, my main objective was just to cheer you up with a little company, I didn’t realize you guys were going to dig right back into Queen business already.”

“We don’t have a choice,” Brian said. “Trident is determined to keep our success going, and so are we for that matter. We can’t afford to sit on our laurels now.”

“No, you’re right, I know,” I agreed, giving Brian a crooked grin. “I just have to get used to the fact that my fiancé is a big rock star now.”

“Speaking of me being your fiancé,” Brian grinned back, a mischievous sparkle lighting up his eyes. “You and I still haven’t set our wedding date yet, and quite frankly, I’m getting a little tired of you putting it off. I’m starting to think you have cold feet.”

“You know, you’re very lucky that you’re cute or I’d have to smack you, sick or not,” I said sarcastically, chucking a clump of weeds at Brian.

He just laughed at me, raising his arms up to block my assault, then quickly said, “Wait here. I’m going to go get something.”

“What are you going to go get?” I asked. “You’re supposed to be resting!”

“I’m just going to run upstairs really quick. It’ll only take a minute,” Brian called out over his shoulder, already halfway to the back door.

I shook my head and continued digging weeds. I was starting to regret bringing him outside at all. One little taste of freedom, and it was already going to his head.

He came wandering back out a few minutes later clutching the calendar that we normally had hanging on the wall above the phone in one hand and a blue ballpoint pen in the other.

“Okay,” he said, flopping back down onto the folding chair, as he clicked the top of the pen. “What dates were you thinking of?”

“You’re the one with the busy schedule, not me!” I laughed.

“We both have a busy schedule now,” Brian corrected, lifting his eyes to look up at me. “Wherever I go, you go, right?”

“I don’t know,” I said, pausing momentarily over my shovel. “Am I allowed to go with you to Wales or on an American tour? I thought you guys were told that you couldn’t take your girlfriends on this last trip to America.”

“Yes, because it was Mott’s tour, not ours,” Brian explained. _“We’re_ going to be headlining this next tour, and I’ll be damned if I’m going anywhere without you again from this point forward.”

My heart felt like it was in my throat. I had automatically assumed that if Brian went on tour again, that it would mean another heart wrenching separation for us. But now, just knowing that he refused to go anywhere without me, and that he was every bit as excited about planning our wedding as I was, well, it nearly brought tears to my eyes. It also made me realize something very significant. My life was truly never going to be the same again. I had had these vague notions that perhaps after Brian got well that I might finally be able to settle down and get a job as a school teacher, or perhaps as a curator at a museum, but I knew now how impossible that was going to be. If Queen continued to get bigger and more popular, then that would mean more touring, more albums, more everything! My life as I had known it would no longer exist. I was going to be the wife of a rock star, touring the world and living out of a suitcase. There would be no time for a steady job! My home would now be wherever Brian was at. It thrilled me and terrified me all at the same time. 

“Let’s see, June and July are going to be relatively busy…” Brian mumbled to himself as he flipped through the pages of the calendar. “And September we’re going to be on tour… What about late August? We should be done with the album by then, and it would be right before we go out on tour. We’d probably have a couple of weeks to sneak a wedding in there. Think the whole thing could be planned by then?”

I dropped my shovel with a thud and closed the distance between Brian and me in about half a second, crouching down next to his chair as I followed his gaze to the calendar.

“What dates are you thinking?” I asked.

“Well, I know that we’ve got two weddings to plan for,” Brian began, “so what if we planned our English wedding for August 24th and the American wedding for one week later on the 31st? They both fall on a Saturday, and with a week in between the dates, that would give us plenty of time to finish up our wedding here, then get to the States and get ready for the next one. We might even have time to sneak in a short honeymoon somewhere, and then maybe we could just meet the guys wherever the first show of the tour is going to be located since we’d already be in the States.”

“You really think this will work?” I asked excitedly. “It won’t interfere with recording your album or anything?”

“No, I think it should be fine,” Brian said. “Of course, you’ll have to do the lion’s share of planning the weddings. I may not have an awful lot of time for that.”

“I can do that,” I said, waving away his concern. “I figured that would be the case anyway. I can get your mom to help me out though, along with Sam and Annie, and I’ll stay in close contact with my mom in the States and have her do a lot of the legwork for me over there.”

“And do you still want to get married at our little bed & breakfast in Hampshire?” Brian smiled.

“Yes, I do!” I said ecstatically. “Don’t you?”

“No, I do,” Brian replied. “And what was the church called that you found in Fresno?”

“Millbrook Presbyterian,” I answered. “I sent you pictures of it while I was in the States, remember?”

“I do remember. I still have them. The place seemed really nice.”

“So what do you think?” I asked. “Late August for sure?”

“I think so,” Brian said with a sparkle in his eyes. “I think we’ve set our dates.”

I instantly sprang up from my crouching position and plopped myself onto Brian’s lap, twining my arms around his neck, as I planted a big wet kiss on his lips.

“I can’t believe this is finally happening,” I said, trying my best not to tear up as I gazed into Brian’s eyes.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but personally, I think we’ve waited long enough,” Brian grinned. He looked past me then at the half-weeded plot of dirt sitting only a few feet away, and with the same mischievous gleam in his eyes, said, “Now about this garden, woman… It’s not going to finish weeding itself you know.”

I smacked him on the arm a couple of times as he pretended to coil up in fear, laughing at me all the while.

“It’s a good thing you’re sick!” I told him. “Otherwise I’d have to wrestle you to the ground!”

“Yeah, promises, promises…” he laughed.

I went back to my weeding with a renewed spring in my step, and felt as though I could conquer the job with the power of ten men, now that Brian and I had officially set our wedding dates.

Soon Brian and I were sitting in the dirt like a couple of kids, digging holes and planting seeds as we continued to make plans for the near future. We decided that it would be fun to have everyone come over to our place sometime during the upcoming weekend so that we could share our joyous news, and so that the guys could also work on their music before the trip to Wales. We decided that in the meantime, though, we needed to get hold of both of our wedding venues and make sure that the dates we wanted were available. Then came the tasks of wedding invitations, dresses, tuxedos, flowers, and everything else that was required to have a proper wedding. Make that two proper weddings! There was so much to do in such a short amount of time!

I set all those thoughts aside for the time being, though, and just watched Brian for a moment as he dug a hole to plant one of the tomato seedlings I’d purchased, wiping his nose with the back of his hand after he’d lovingly patted soil all the around the base of the plant. He was so tender and caring, not to mention smart and talented and funny and everything that I’d ever wanted in a man, all wrapped up into one perfect person. There was no doubt in my mind that we were soul mates and that we were meant to be with each other. I’d never been an overly religious person, but I couldn’t help but feel that the day that Brian stepped into my life, there must have been some sort of divine intervention going on.

Brian caught a glimpse of me looking his way, and smiled at me as he said, “What?”

“Nothing,” I grinned. “Just thinking how adorable you look with that smudge of dirt on your nose. Quite frankly, I don’t know how I’ve managed to keep my hands off of you for the last three weeks.”

“Probably because you don’t want to catch Hepatitis,” Brian scoffed, making the smudge on his nose even bigger as he tried to wipe it off.

“No, it’s not that,” I said. “If I was going to catch it, I would have had it by now. I just didn’t want you overexerting yourself.”

“You mean, we could have at least been making out this whole time, and you wouldn’t have cared?” Brian asked with a dumbstruck expression. “I figured you saw me as disease ridden and contagious!”

“Well, you are disease ridden and contagious,” I teased, crawling across the dirt toward him on my hands and knees. “But I love you anyway, and you _are_ awfully cute…”

Brian dropped his trowel and pulled me onto his lap, wrapping his arms around me and kissing me until I felt breathless. My body instantly reacted to his touch, and I found myself completely torn over what I should do. I wanted him so badly that it hurt, but the last thing either of us needed was for Brian to have a relapse of some sort.

“Let’s go upstairs,” Brian breathed, his eyes already clouding over with desire. “We can finish planting all this stuff later.”

“But you’re supposed to be on bed rest,” I warned. “I don’t want you to feel worse than you already do.”

“You can be on top then, how does that sound?” Brian grinned.

“I guess I could do that,” I laughed.

We left our plants, seeds and trowels where they sat, as we made our way to the back door and up the stairs hand in hand. We could barely contain our desire for one another as we locked the front door, trying not to trip over our furniture as we meandered into the bedroom, kissing each other the entire way.

Brian flopped down onto his back on the bed, taking me with him, as we wrapped our arms and legs around each other, devouring one another’s mouths with passion filled kisses as our bodies cried out for more.

We tore at our clothes, removing them as quickly as possible, tossing them carelessly around the room. It had been almost an entire year since we’d made love to one another, and every ounce of pent up desire and frustration that we’d felt during that time came rising to the surface, as we practically pawed at each other like animals, desperately needing to feel our bodies joined together once again.

I kissed my way down Brian’s throat to his chest and stomach, breathing in his unique scent as I went, savoring the slightly salty taste of his skin that I’d spent so many lonely nights in Palo Alto longing to experience again.

I kissed my way lower, teasing the tip of Brian’s cock with my tongue as he sucked in his breath and tossed his head back onto the pillow, running his fingers through the long hair of my ponytail.

“Oh God baby,” he moaned. “If you keep doing that, it may not take very long for me to come…”

“Should I stop then?” I purred, looking up at Brian through lowered eyelashes.

“No, don’t stop…” Brian breathed, guiding my head lower with his hands until I was taking him all the way into my mouth.

“Mmm…” I sighed, tasting every inch of him, lowering my mouth down over his hard cock over and over, sucking and licking at Brian’s skin until he was whimpering with pleasure.

“Here, turn around so we can 69,” he said at last. “I can do that on my back.”

He didn’t have to tell me twice. I crawled further up the bed, kissing Brian passionately one more time before straddling him with my thighs. I took him back into my mouth, but it was extremely hard to concentrate on what I was doing with Brian’s tongue darting into my wetness, teasing and tasting me until I felt like I might explode. I wrapped my hand around his cock, pleasuring him as best I could, as his long slender fingers slipped inside of me, making me whimper and cry out with pleasure, as he thrust them inside of me harder and faster, taking me dangerously close to my climax.

I knew that if we didn’t change positions soon that we were both going to come and the whole thing would be over almost before it began.

“I need to feel you inside of me baby…” I breathed, turning back around until my thighs were straddling Brian’s hips.

“Me too…” Brian sighed, grabbing my ass cheeks firmly with his hands, as he guided me down over the top of him. I was so wet and ready that he slid effortlessly inside of me, taking my breath away as his hardness completely filled my body.

“Oh God Brian… I’ve missed you so much…” I gasped, rocking my hips in a rhythmic motion, slowly at first so that I could savor the sensation of our bodies joined together once again, then harder and faster, until we were both crying out with pleasure. I knew it wouldn’t be long until our bodies finally gave in to the ecstasy that was building inside of us both.

“Oh fuck…” Brian groaned at last, his breath catching in his throat as he held onto me tight, coming deeply inside of me as my orgasm washed over me like a tidal wave.

“Brian… Brian!” I cried, tossing my head back as I held on to Brian’s forearms with a vice-like grip.

“Oh my God…” Brian sighed, his breath coming out in ragged gasps as he pulled me down on top of him, wrapping his arms tightly around my body as I listened to his heart beating rapidly beneath my ear. “I have been waiting for this moment for so long…”

“I know, baby, me too…” I said, trying desperately to catch my breath. “You have no idea how many lonely nights I spent in Palo Alto, thinking about you and wishing that I could hold you and feel you beside me again.”

Brian laughed a hollow laugh, and said, “Believe me, I know exactly how you felt. And I thought having the sexy photos of you would help somehow, but they only made things worse in the end. I was dying to touch you, to smell you, to taste you again.”

“Well, thank God I’m back home,” I said, lifting up my head to gaze down at Brian’s sparkling hazel eyes, as I traced a finger over the dark stubble gracing his angular jawline. “Thank God that we never have to worry about having another lonely night ever again.”


	77. Chapter 77

Buuuuuuuzzzzzzzzz……

I could just make out the sound of the timer going off in the kitchen over Brian’s guitar playing in the living room, as I rifled through the clothes in my bedroom closet, looking desperately for something to wear that everybody hadn’t seen me in a million times already. The flat became very still and quiet then, as Brian’s guitar playing came to a sudden stand still.

“Babe! I think your buzzer thing is going off!” Brian called out.

I left my clothes hanging where they were, feeling very frustrated, and raced out of the bedroom through the living room, saying “I’ve got it! I’ve got it!” as I hurried on into the kitchen.

I silenced the timer, reached for my hot-pads, and carefully took the piping hot cookie sheet filled with Brian’s favorite chocolate chip cookies out of the oven, setting it on top of the stove to cool. I still had enough dough for one more batch, so I grabbed another cookie sheet and started dropping rounded spoonfuls onto it, occasionally popping a dollop of dough into my mouth as I went.

“So, what time is everyone supposed to be over tonight?” Brian asked as he wandered into the kitchen and leaned casually against the countertop, arms folded across his chest.

“Around six,” I answered, trying to swallow down a mouthful of cookie dough.

“Do we have to have pizza?” Brian asked with a slight grimace.

“No, of course not,” I replied. “I just thought it would be easy, but we can have whatever. Why? Don’t you feel like pizza?”

“My stomach is just acting up a little,” Brian said, running a hand up under his shirt and rubbing it across his abdomen. “I’m not sure I can handle pizza tonight. I just don’t want to make extra work for you though.”

“It’s no extra work,” I said, scooping the last of the dough from the bowl. “I’ll just make something quick and easy that will hopefully agree with your stomach.”

I glanced at the clock on the oven, and it was already four in the afternoon. If I was going to make something, it was going to have to be something quick and easy indeed!

“How about sandwiches?” I suggested. “I can run down to the market, get some baguettes, cold cuts and cheese, and whip up a plate of sandwiches for everyone. Think that would be easier on your stomach?”

“Actually, yeah, that does sound better,” Brian admitted. “But I don’t want you to have to run all the way down to the market…”

“It’s not a problem, I swear,” I said, trying to ease his concerns. “Just let me pop this last pan of cookies into the oven, I’ll throw on some clothes while they’re baking, and I can be back from the store in no time.”

“You’re going to too much trouble for the fellas as usual, you know that, right?” Brian asked as he reached into my mixing bowl to scrape a small remaining dollop of dough off of the side with his finger before popping it into his mouth.

“You know me,” I grinned, turning to slide the last sheet of cookies into the oven. “I always feel like I have to take care of everybody.”

“Yes, I know,” Brian scolded, as he wrapped his arms around me for an affectionate hug. “To the point where _you’re_ going to be the one who’s ill one of these days, and _I’m_ going to have to take care of _you!”_

“Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” I laughed, giving Brian a quick kiss before rushing out of the kitchen again to throw on some jeans and a t-shirt so that I could dash down to the store.

The previous couple of days had been a little hectic I had to admit. After Brian and I had finally given in to our desires the afternoon that we’d been outside gardening, Brian’s health had taken a bit of a downturn. He’d been complaining of his stomach bothering him again off and on, and I was worried that he was going to have a relapse after all the progress he’d made. I’d had a feeling that he’d been overdoing things that day, and it turned out that I was right. We’d been taking things a little easier since then, but now it was the weekend, and everyone was coming over to talk about the upcoming trip to Wales and go over the material for the next album. It was going to be the first time that I’d seen Freddie or John or either of their girlfriends since I’d been home, and I was excited to finally visit with everyone again, but I could tell that all of the commotion was taking a toll on Brian, despite his arguments otherwise.

Nevertheless, I still thought that seeing the guys would lift his spirits, so I made my way down to the store as soon as the cookies were done, and rushed back home with everything that I needed for the sandwiches. I threw together all of the food as quickly as possible, making a platter of sandwiches, bowls of chips with dip, and, of course, a large plate filled with cookies. The beer and wine were already chilling in the fridge, and I was happy to finally be able to cross food and drinks off of my to-do list. 

I went back to the closet to see what I could dig out, and found the aqua colored maxi-dress from Kensington Market that I hadn’t worn since before I’d gone back to America. I knew that everyone had seen me in it before, and that it was probably starting to look sadly out-of-date, but I decided that it was just going to have to do. I made a mental note to buy some new clothes as soon as my life settled down a little – whenever _that_ might be! 

Brian, of course, looked handsome as always in his off-white pin striped shirt and black bell-bottoms, even though he did look a little thinner and paler than usual. I found myself questioning again whether or not we were doing the right thing by having everyone come over before he was completely well. Soon there was a knock at the door, though, and all the time for second-guessing was gone. Brian leapt up off of the couch and I wandered out of the kitchen at the same time, both of us making our way toward the front door. I got there first and reached for the doorknob with Brian standing just behind me.

“Darling!!” Freddie exclaimed in his singsong voice, practically bursting through the door as soon as I’d opened it. He threw his arms around me before I could even say hello and lifted me up off of the ground, swinging me around in a circle until everything around me was spinning. He finally set me back on my feet, grabbed me by the shoulders, leaned back slightly and said, “Let me look at you dear…”

I stood very still, trying in vain to make the room stop spinning, while Freddie looked me over.

“Well, you haven’t changed one bit darling!” Freddie eventually proclaimed with a wide grin. “You look exactly the same as when you left! Even right down to your frock! Isn’t that the dress that I helped you pick out at Kensington Market two years ago?”

I rolled my eyes skyward and said, “Yes. Yes it is. I need to buy some new clothes, I know.”

Of course Freddie _would_ point out the one thing that had been bothering me all afternoon.

“Well, you’ve got to look the part, darling,” Freddie chastised. “We’ve been over this before. I mean, you’re about to marry a rock star for God’s sake!”

“Well this _rock star_ happens to like her dress,” Brian interjected sweetly, wrapping a protective arm around my shoulders.

“Hmm, I don’t know…” Freddie went on, rubbing his chin thoughtfully as he raked his eyes over my outfit, completely ignoring Brian’s comment. He reached out to my chest then, and to my complete horror, grabbed my breasts in both hands, lifting them up in an attempt to create more cleavage. “You need to wear things that show off your assets, darling.”

“Um, excuse me,” Brian grumbled, reaching out to slap Freddie’s hands away. “Must you fondle my fiancé’s _assets_ right in front of me?” 

“You’re absolutely right, dear,” Freddie purred with that Cheshire Cat grin of his. “In the future I’ll fondle them when you’re not around.”

Suddenly another hand reached out to slap Freddie’s shoulder, as Mary worked her way around her boyfriend and into the flat, glaring at him as she went. It was obvious by looking at her outfit why Freddie thought that I needed to show off more of my assets. She was wearing skin-tight bell-bottoms and a silky blouse that was nearly unbuttoned to her navel, exposing the fact that she clearly wasn’t wearing a bra underneath. Not that she particularly needed a bra. There wasn’t a whole lot there to hold up truth be told, but still, I found myself wondering how she managed not to fall out of such an ensemble. I felt downright prudish by comparison.

“I’ll still fondle your assets too, darling, never fear,” Freddie simpered, flashing a bright smile at Mary as he wrapped an arm around her waist.

Mary looked at me and rolled her eyes, saying, “Well, as you can see, some things never change. How’ve you been Carrie?”

“Good,” I said. “How about you?”

“You mean when I’m not having to deal with Freddie’s inflated ego?” she smirked sarcastically. “I’m doing all right.”

“Oh! Speaking of my inflated ego,” Freddie interjected as if Mary’s comment had been nothing short of a compliment, “how do you like my new red velvet jacket?”

Freddie proudly tugged at the hem of the garment in question before running his hands lovingly across the front, smoothing out any slight imperfections that might exist, as if such a thing was even possible. I’d never seen a person with such crisply pressed clothing in my entire life, and Freddie’s new jacket was no exception.

“It’s very nice,” I said amiably. “I suspect it will go perfectly with your Three Musketeers hat with the red ostrich plume.”

“Oh it does!” Freddie exclaimed, completely unaware that my comment had been meant to be mildly sarcastic.

“So, what’s going on here? Have you started the party without us?” Roger’s voice boomed from just outside the front door, as he and Sam approached our little conglomeration.

“Ah! Half of our sonic volcano is here!” Freddie cheered, reaching around to wrap an arm around Roger, physically dragging him into the flat.

“Sonic volcano?” I asked innocently.

“Oh Lord! Don’t get them started, believe me!” Brian interrupted.

“Jealous mister axe man?” Roger chuckled, trying to extricate himself from Freddie’s death grip.

“It was in the _Rolling Stone_ review that we got for our first album,” Freddie explained to me. “They called Roger and John a sonic volcano whose eruption maketh the earth tremble! You were in the States at the time. Didn’t you see it?”

I snorted with laughter over the absurdity of such a statement, and said, “No, I guess I missed that one.”

“Lucky you,” Sam said in a snarky voice, pushing her way past the antics of Roger and Freddie. “We’ve all been forced to listen to quotes from the article since December!”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me somehow?” I laughed, as I ushered everyone inside, telling them all to find a place to sit. 

I closed the front door and was about to make my way into the kitchen, when another light knock sounded at the door. Brian and I gave each other a quizzical glance, having not seen anyone standing outside the door before shutting it, yet lo and behold, when I opened the door again, there stood John and Veronica. 

“What kind of sorcery is this?” I teased. “I just closed the door a couple of seconds ago and you weren’t out here!”

“We were making our way up the stairs,” John grinned shyly. “I tried to call out to you, but Freddie and Roger were making so much noise that I don’t think you heard me.”

“Well, it’s good to see you again,” I said, reaching out to give John a quick hug.

He hadn’t changed much since the last time I’d seen him, except that perhaps his hair had grown a little longer, which was saying something, because John’s hair had always been almost as long as mine. Veronica, on the other hand, had cut her hair into a shorter bob that just reached her shoulders. Like Mary, she too seemed to be trying to look more the part of a rock ‘n’ roll girlfriend. When I had left England a year before, Veronica had been dressing in a relatively frumpy way, wearing mostly knee length skirts or sensible pants with somewhat plain and nondescript shirts, but now she was boasting a pair of short shorts and a cropped shirt that actually showed her midriff. Clearly I was going to have to vamp up my wardrobe if a Catholic schoolgirl was showing more skin than I was!

“Well, come in and get comfortable,” I said, motioning them both inside as I shut the door. I called out to the entire room in general, “What can I get you guys to drink?”

Everyone answered wine except for Brian, Roger and John, who each wanted a beer.

“Coming right up!” I said, turning to head into the kitchen.

“Let me come in and help you,” Sam offered, following right behind me.

I could hear everyone asking Brian how he was feeling out in the living room as I stuck my head inside the fridge to pull out the drinks.

“Where are your glasses?” Sam asked me.

“Uh, furthest cupboard to the right,” I answered, setting a handful of beers along with a bottle of white wine on the counter behind me.

“So, I’ve got a question for you,” Sam said in a slightly hushed voice as she pulled five wine glasses down from the cupboard. “Roger and I tried something a little, um, different last night and I was wondering if he’d ever done it with you.”

I knew immediately that this conversation couldn’t possibly lead to anything good.

“Different?” I asked innocently, as I dug around in the drawer in front of me for my corkscrew and bottle opener.

“Yeah, you know…” Sam went on in the same hushed voice, as she set the glasses down on the counter in front of me. “Different. As in, he was behind me.”

I stared at her through narrowed eyes, and in my typical naivety asked, “Doggie style?”

“No!” Sam said impatiently. “You know… plowing the back field?”

I continued to stare at her, feeling very confused, then it hit me what she was alluding to and I gasped, my eyes widening with surprise.

“Are you talking, like, back door action?” I whispered.

Sam was covering her mouth and trying not to laugh out loud over my obvious state of shock.

“Yes,” she finally said. “Did you and Roger ever do anything like that when you were together?”

“No!” I quickly said.

“Okay, okay, I was just wondering!” Sam grinned, holding up her hands in mock defense. “Haven’t you and Brian ever done anything like that?”

“No!” I exclaimed again. “Why? Isn’t that normal? Should we have?”

“That’s between you two,” Sam shrugged. “Personally, I thought it was kind of fun, but then again, I’ve seen the size of Brian, so your situation might be a little different.”

“Wait, you’ve seen the size of him? You mean as in…” I started to say.

“Mm-hmm,” Sam interrupted. “The couple times that I caught him, well, you know, while you were in the States. Good work, by the way, finding a guy so well endowed!”

I was staring at Sam, completely thunderstruck, when I heard Mary and Veronica enter the kitchen behind me.

“What are you two whispering about in here?” Mary questioned.

“Just talking about how well endowed Brian is,” Sam said matter-of-factly.

“Mm, oh yeah…” both Mary and Veronica mumbled in agreement.

My eyebrows shot into the air, as I exclaimed as quietly as possible, “Are you saying that you’re _all_ well versed on the size of my fiancé’s penis?!”

“Well, when you’ve been backstage at as many shows as we have,” Mary said, “you, er, see things.”

“You _see_ things,” I mocked, shaking my head. “Well, that’s just fabulous. I will sleep _so_ much better at night knowing that all of you know what Brian’s dick looks like!”

I stabbed the corkscrew into the bottle of wine irritably, and decided to take my frustration out on the cork, vigorously twisting the metal screw down inside of it.

“Hey! At least we were complimentary!” Sam argued. “And need I remind you that you’ve seen what my boyfriend looks like naked as well?”

“Oh, she’s done more than see him naked,” Veronica chimed in quietly.

“Listen…” I replied, yanking on the cork until it was freed from the bottle. “Anything that may or may not have happened between Roger and me happened before Sam came into the picture, so I can’t help that!”

“That’s true,” Sam said thoughtfully, reaching for the bottle opener that I’d laid on the counter so that she could pop open the beer bottles one by one. “I still can’t believe that Roger and I do kinkier stuff than the two of you did though. I mean, I thought your exploits were legendary!”

“They _were_ legendary!” Mary told Sam indignantly. “Good God, what have you and Roger been doing that’s more pervy than the things he and Carrie used to do?!”

“Oh sweet lord…” I said exasperatedly, trying with difficulty to pour wine into the glasses. “Do we really need to go through this again? They had anal sex!”

You could have heard a pin drop as soon as the words left my mouth. It was like somebody had completely shut the volume off in my entire flat. Then, suddenly, Freddie’s voice alone piped up in the living room, saying, “Anal sex?! What the fuck are they talking about in there?!”

“I don’t know,” Roger said. “But it sounds a hell of a lot better than what we’ve been talking about!”

Instantly there were four sets of footsteps shuffling their way across the living room floor.

“Nice going, Carrie!” Sam whispered vehemently to me.

“Sorry!” I whispered back.

“What in God’s name is going on in here?!” Freddie demanded, leading the pack of men into the kitchen. “We thought you were supposed to be getting drinks!”

“We _are_ getting drinks, see?” I replied, pressing a glass of wine into his hand.

“I don’t know about you Fred, but I distinctly heard the words _anal sex_ leave somebody’s lips,” Roger smirked. He looked over his shoulder and added, “What about you Bri? Is that what you heard?”

“That’s certainly what it sounded like to me,” Brian replied, flashing me a mischievous grin.

Sam cleared her throat loudly and gave Roger a slightly menacing look. “Carrie and I were just having a little girl talk, that’s all.”

“Oh!” Roger drawled, suddenly catching her meaning. “Were you telling her about last night?”

“You know, I don’t think I can handle this conversation again!” I wailed. “Aren’t you all supposed to be here tonight to talk about the next album??”

“Yes, but Roger and Sam’s kinky love life might be more interesting,” Freddie smiled salaciously.

“Ugh!” I groaned. I shoved glasses of wine and bottles of beer one by one at everybody, and told them emphatically to get back into the living room where they belonged, all except for Brian, whom I told to stay in the kitchen so that he could help me carry plates of food in for everyone.

“So, which one of you girls brought up the ladylike subject of anal sex?” Brian teased after everyone had left the room.

“Sam,” I said simply, reaching for the handle of the fridge.

“Dare I ask what she was saying to you on the subject?” Brian asked, a definite hint of amusement in his voice.

I could barely hear him since I was bent over with my head inside the fridge, pulling out the platter of sandwiches.

“And then you do that…” Brian went on exasperatedly.

“Do what?” I asked, turning to set the platter on the counter.

Brian chuckled under his breath and wrapped me up in his arms. “You know, sometimes I forget how sweet and naïve you can be.”

“Why?” I asked. “What did I do now?”

“We were talking about anal sex,” Brian smiled down at me, lowering his voice to just above a whisper. “Then you go and bend over right in front of me, your bum swaying underneath the thin fabric of your dress. It’s not really helping the situation right now.”

He reached for my hand and held to his crotch, where I could feel him growing harder by the second, so that I might understand.

I quirked an eyebrow up at him and said, “Are you telling me that this subject matter is a turn on for you?”

“It’s a turn on for every man on the planet, babe,” Brian laughed.

“Really?” I asked. I nodded slowly, trying to digest this new bit of information. I wasn’t really sure how I felt about the notion, so I cleared my throat a little and said, “Well, I’ll have to keep that in mind. In the meantime, do you think you can help me get these plates of food into the living room?”

“Yeah, I may need a second though…” Brian replied, shifting the fabric of his pants slightly.

Soon the food was spread out across the coffee table, and everyone was digging in, filling up plates with sandwiches, chips and dip. And while I’d hoped that the subject matter that we’d all been discussing in the kitchen might be dropped, it seemed that that was too much to hope for.

“So Carrie,” Freddie began with a mischievous gleam in his eye. “Brian was telling us all about how you’ve been taking such good care of him while he’s been ill. But I’m curious, when you take his temperature, do you do it orally, or _anally?”_

I rolled my eyes as everyone either groaned or laughed.

“Maybe when Carrie’s ill, _Brian_ is the one who takes her temperature anally,” Roger supplied, receiving even more groans and laughter.

“Tell me, Rog,” I smirked at him. “What was Sam’s temperature last night? Sounds like you had a first hand account to me.”

“Ah, she was hot, baby, let me tell you…” Roger said, waggling his eyebrows Sam’s way.

“Oh my God!” Brian exclaimed, shaking his head. “Is it possible that we could let this subject drop now?”

“Yes! I’m so sorry that I even brought it up!” Sam said in agreement.

“Oh fine!” Freddie relented. “You people take the fun out of everything! So, is everyone ready for the trip to Wales in two weeks time? Brian, are you going to be fit to travel by then, darling?”

“Oh yeah, I should be fine,” Brian replied. “It’ll feel great to get out and do something productive again.”

“So, I still don’t understand, why Wales?” Sam asked, essentially echoing my very own thoughts. “Aren’t there plenty of recording studios here in London? What’s wrong with Trident where you recorded your last album?”

“We’re still going to come back and use the Trident studios when we’re through at Rockfield,” Roger explained. “But we sort of wanted to try the place out. Mott recorded their last album there and told us that they really liked the acoustics.”

“Yes, and it will be like a lovely little mini holiday,” Freddie added. “Rockfield is out in the Welsh countryside, and they’ve got full accommodations there for us, daily meals, anything we might need. And the best part, of course, is that Trident is paying for every penny of it!”

“So, we’re actually staying at this place?” I asked. “What is there, a hotel on the premises or something?”

“Think of it as a bit like a bed & breakfast, only with recording studios,” Brian smiled.

“Interesting,” I said. “So, are we going to do anything else while we’re out there? Are there places to go? Things to see?”

“I’m sure we’ll find plenty to do when we’re not working,” Brian said, setting his empty plate on the coffee table in front of him. He hadn’t eaten much, I noticed, and I hoped that his stomach wasn’t bothering him. He picked up the tablet and pen that he always kept on the coffee table and added, “Speaking of work, what songs are we thinking of for the new album, fellas? Anybody got anything new?”

“Oh, I’ve been writing like mad,” Freddie answered. “You’ll remember I was playing bits of _Killer Queen_ for you all while we were out on tour with Mott, well, I’ve got all sorts of plans for that once we get in the studio, and I’ve got another song, sort of a ragtime, vaudeville number that I think is rather fun called _Bring Back That Leroy Brown._ And there are others that I need to sort through as well.”

“Good,” Brian said, jotting down notes in the tablet. “How about you Rog?”

“I haven’t been writing too much lately, we’ve been so damn busy,” Roger began, shoving the last chip on his plate into his mouth, “but, I have been reworking a song called _Tenement Funster_ that I started writing about a year or two ago, and I do like how it’s turning out.”

“Another rocker I assume?” Brian asked him with a playful grin.

“Naturally,” Roger grinned back. “And I suppose you’ve got nothing but sappy ballads for us this time?”

“Mm, a couple,” Brian confessed.

“Lord, I knew it,” Roger said, rolling his eyes. “Didn’t I tell you Fred? Every time he got his bloody guitar out while Carrie was gone it sounded like he was playing a fucking death march.”

“They’re not as bad as all that!” Brian said defensively. “They’re just love songs. And don’t worry, I plan on contributing some hard rockers as well, I always do.”

“So what do you call them darling?” Freddie asked.

“Um, right now their working titles are _She Makes Me_ and _Dear Friends,”_ Brian replied.

“Why haven’t I heard these yet?” I asked in a slightly hurt voice.

“Wanna hear them now?” Brian smiled at me.

“Yes, let’s hear them!” Freddie answered before I had a chance.

Brian reached for his acoustic guitar leaning against the side of the couch, and began strumming out the chords for _She Makes Me_ first, and when he’d finished with that, he moved on to _Dear Friends._ I caught the meaning in the lyrics of both songs immediately, and had tears in my eyes by the time he’d finished playing. It was obvious that he’d written them both during bouts of depression while I’d been gone, and my heart ached, wishing that I would have never had to have left him in the first place. I didn’t think that it would be possible for any of Brian’s songs to ever move me more than _Some Day One Day_ had, but the raw emotion behind _She Makes Me_ just tore at my heart, and knowing that it was written about me and Brian’s love for me, just made it mean that much more.

“Bloody hell,” Roger griped when he saw me crying. “Are you going to cry like this when we’re recording the songs in the studio?”

“And if I do?” I asked, giving Roger a challenging look as I wiped at my eyes.

“Brian was sad when he wrote the songs, Roger,” Veronica suddenly argued in Brian’s defense. She turned to Brian then and added, “I thought they were lovely.”

“Thank you Veronica,” Brian smiled. He cleared his throat then and said, “So, that’s all that I’ve got completely finished for right now. What about you John? Anything to contribute this time?”

“Well, I’ve got one song,” John answered quietly. “I don’t know if it’s any good though…”

He unfolded a sheet of paper from his pants pocket and passed it over to Brian.

“Ah, _Misfire,_ eh?” Brian asked before reading over the handwritten lines scrawled across the plain white sheet. “This is good John. I like it. What key were you thinking of doing it in?”

Brian passed the paper over to Freddie as he asked.

“Um, most likely E,” John told Brian. “Could I borrow your guitar?”

Brian handed his guitar over to John and he strummed out the first chords while Freddie read over the lyrics. Soon Freddie was singing along, trying to get a feel for how John wanted it to go, while Roger tapped out a beat on the coffee table. Brian ran into our bedroom long enough to get his red special out, and with the volume turned relatively low, he started adding in a few little guitar riffs here and there that he thought might go with the tune. It never ceased to amaze me how skilled the guys were when it came to songwriting. 

Sam, Mary, Veronica and I all exchanged an occasional smile as we grooved and nodded our heads along to the guys’ music, all of us expressing without having to utter a single word how proud we were of our incredibly talented men. It was obvious, perhaps to me most of all since I’d been away so long, how much the guys had grown and improved their skills just in the last couple of years alone. I knew that the tiny kernels of songs that we were witnessing that night were only going to grow and mature, and considering that they already sounded pretty damn good to my ears, I couldn’t imagine how fantastic they were going to be when they were finally finished. I’d already been so impressed with how Queen’s first two albums had turned out, but based on the new ideas that the guys were sharing and working on together, I had a feeling that their next album might just turn out to be their best one yet. And since I had completely missed the recording of _Queen II,_ I couldn’t wait to be around for the making of their third album.


	78. Chapter 78

“Let’s see, guitars, ukulele, cameras, telescope… Damn it, I know I’m forgetting something…” Brian said in a slightly agitated voice as he stood in the middle of the living room counting each item off on his fingers. 

I watched him from over near the coffee table, where I was bent over a paper grocery bag, making sure that we had plenty of snacks and drinks to take with us on the long trip into Wales. I couldn’t help but smile to myself as I glanced across the room to see Brian chewing on a fingernail, deep in thought. I’d learned long ago that when he got in these fidgety moods and started talking to himself that it was best to just let him sort things out on his own. If I said anything to try and help, I’d only be disrupting his idiosyncratic thought process and confuse him even more.

“The tapes that I recorded in the States!” he suddenly exclaimed with a snap of his fingers. “That was it!”

He immediately made for our bedroom where I could hear him rustling and shuffling things around for a minute or two before remerging with a handful of cassette tapes in hard plastic cases.

“What are those?” I asked as he stuffed them into his already overcrowded camera bag.

“Just a few cassettes with song ideas and sounds that I recorded while I was in America,” Brian explained.

Knowing that each tape held about an hour’s worth of material, I laughed and said, “How many sounds were there to record in America?!”

Brian looked at me and grinned, replying, “More than you’d think! I ended up with the sounds of bustling streets, people shouting at one another, sirens wailing as they went past… There are a lot of strange noises in your country, I’ve got to say!”

I nodded my agreement, realizing that there probably were a lot of unusual sounds in America to an Englishman’s ears. I was pretty much used to them, of course, so they rarely fazed me. Leave it to that guy of mine though, to be so enthralled by what he heard that he had to get it on tape. Brian’s childlike curiosity was definitely one of the things that I loved about him the most. Then it occurred to me that I too had forgotten something that I needed to pack for Wales. 

“Oh crap! I nearly forgot to take the wedding invitations!” I exclaimed, smacking myself lightly on the forehead with the palm of my hand. 

I ran to our bedroom closet where the large recently acquired cardboard box from the printer’s sat, filled with delicate looking lavender and white invitations and matching envelopes. I had also tucked a couple of pens and a tablet filled with the names and addresses of both Brian’s family members and mine into the box as well so that I could make out invitations while the guys were busy in the recording studio. Our wedding dates were now only a couple of months away so time was running short.

Soon we had everything loaded up into the car, including our little baby Harold, whom we were dropping off at Brian’s parents’ house on our way out of London. I felt bad for poor Harold that we were constantly shifting him around, and gave him a hug and kiss before we left, telling him that we’d see him soon. I also left a key to our building with Brian’s dad so that he could go over and water our garden for us while we were gone as well, provided that the normally wet English weather wasn’t taking care of it for us already of course!

For once the weather was actually sunny and bright as we headed out onto the busy M4 motorway, flying past small towns and villages in the beautiful English countryside as we went. I was always so enchanted with all of the historic buildings that we passed whenever we travelled through the UK that time seemed to fly for me while we were on the road. After about an hour and a half, though, my empty stomach began to get the better of me, so we stopped in the town of Swindon to get something to eat. There was a small cafe advertising the fact that they served breakfast all day, so that was where we headed.

Brian and I walked inside the place laughing and joking around about a silly commercial that we had just heard on the car radio, our thoughts off in our own little world the way they always were, but immediately, as we walked through the door of the tiny restaurant, there seemed to be a strange vibe about the place. It was very quiet, and it felt as though everyone had stopped whatever it was they were doing just for the sole purpose of staring at us as we made our way inside. I tried not to put too much credence in it, since it appeared that the clientele consisted mainly of conservative looking families, who probably weren’t used to seeing a 6’2” guy with long curly hair, velvet bell-bottoms and a skin-tight white shirt in their midst. We were out in the middle of the Wiltshire countryside after all, which was more famous for sheep farming and dairy cattle than rock ‘n’ roll.

There was a counter near the front of the café, behind which stood a cute young hostess who couldn’t seem to take her eyes off of Brian, as she grabbed up a couple of menus and led us to our table. 

“Can I get you something to drink?” she asked Brian enthusiastically as we sat down.

“Um, coffee please,” Brian replied, then nodded toward me, adding, “What about you, babe?”

“Coffee as well, thanks,” I said, with the hostess barely giving me a cursory glance.

I thought it was a bit odd that the wait staff seemed to be relatively unaware of my existence, but nonetheless, I cracked open the menu and began to peruse what the place had to offer in the way of breakfast fare, as did Brian. I continued to watch our overly friendly hostess out of the corner of my eye as I pretended to look over my menu, noticing that she’d wandered over to a small group of waitresses where she began whispering covertly as the entire group of them took turns glancing our way.

I was about to say something to Brian about the situation, when one of the waitresses suddenly broke away from the pack, heading to our table with a bright-eyed smile and a definite bounce in her step.

I thought that she was probably going to just introduce herself as our waitress, or at least tell us that our coffee was on it’s way, but instead, the first words out of her mouth were, “It’s you, isn’t it? I mean… you’re him!”

Brian looked up from his menu, completely mystified as to what was going on, and replied, “Sorry?”

“You’re him! You’re the bloke from Queen, aren’t you?” the waitress asked, practically bubbling over with glee.

“Oh…” Brian said with a nervous little laugh as he set his menu down. “Yes, I am.”

“I love your music so much!” the girl exclaimed. She dug into her apron, pulled out the tablet that she wrote customers’ orders on, thrust it towards Brian and asked, “Could you sign this please?”

Brian very good-naturedly took the tablet covered in splotchy grease stains, along with the pen that the waitress had pulled out of her apron as well, and said, “Sure. What’s your name?”

“Emily,” she said, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she watched Brian scribble out his name. “My friend Kate won’t believe this! She’s a huge Queen fan too!”

“Well, tell Kate that I said hi,” Brian smiled, handing the tablet and pen back to the waitress.

“I will!” she crowed, turning to leave the table. She only got a few feet, however, before she spun around and quickly added as an afterthought, “Oh! And your coffee is coming right up!”

“Well, I hope she remembers that I exist and brings me some coffee too,” I grinned, quirking an eyebrow at Brian.

“I’m really sorry about that,” Brian apologized, reaching across the table to hold both of my hands in his. “It seems like this kind of thing is happening more and more often lately. Especially since we were on _Top of The Pops.”_

No sooner had the words _Top Of The Pops_ left his mouth than someone else was approaching our table. This time it was a young girl and a teenage boy whom I recognized as being the children from a family seated about three tables behind us.

“Are you Brian May?” the boy asked timidly.

“Yes, I am,” Brian answered with a smile, releasing my hands.

“You’re an amazing guitarist!” the boy gushed, turning slightly red. “I bought your single, _Seven Seas of Rhye,_ and I play it all the time. I’m learning to play guitar too, and I’m trying to learn your riffs.”

“Aw, that’s great! I’m glad you like our music,” Brian grinned.

“I really do! I’m trying to form a band with my mates so that we can play music like yours. And I want to grow my hair long like yours, but my mum and dad won’t let me.”

“Well, give them time,” Brian said sweetly. “My parents weren’t thrilled when I started to grow my hair out either.”

“Could we get your autograph?” the boy asked at last, thrusting a couple of restaurant napkins and a ballpoint pen out to Brian. “Two autographs really. One for me, and one for my sister here.”

“Sure,” Brian drawled, taking the napkins and pen. “What are your names?”

“I’m Steven, and this is Laura,” the boy replied, his eyes lighting up as he watched Brian make out an autograph first to him and then to his sister.

“There you are,” Brian said at last, handing Steven’s napkin back to him. He turned toward Laura then to give her the napkin that he’d signed for her as well, and said, “You’re very quiet.”

The little girl turned a violent shade of red and hid behind her brother after snatching the napkin from Brian’s hand.

“She’s very shy our Laura,” Steven confessed.

“Aw, well, that’s okay,” Brian smiled at the little girl peeking bashfully around her brother. “I’m a bit shy myself. It gets better as you get older, I promise. Keep rockin’ though, okay guys?”

“We will! Thanks Brian!” Steven exclaimed, cradling his napkin and pen in his hands as if they were priceless holy relics, while he and his sister meandered back to their own table.

I looked around the restaurant and realized that every pair of eyes were now on Brian and me. Most people had already figured out who Brian was, and for those who hadn’t, the whispers could be heard traveling around the room from table to table, informing those who were unaware that a major rock star was in their midst. This was something that I really hadn’t had to deal with before leaving for America. At that time, the guys were just starting to build up a little bit of buzz, and fan sightings were rare. Now, it seemed that we couldn’t even go out for breakfast without causing a stir. My how things had changed in just one short year.

“Do you want to go?” Brian leaned across the table and quietly asked me. “Is this making you uncomfortable?”

Brian’s voice broke through my hazy thoughts, and I realized that I was staring back at all the people who were now staring at me. I suddenly felt as though I knew exactly what a caged animal in a zoo must feel like on a daily basis, with strangers gawking and pointing and staring at them, when all they were really trying to do was just live their lives.

I snapped out of my reverie, painted on a smile for Brian’s benefit, and said, “No, of course not! Even rock stars have to eat, right?”

Brian sighed and reached for my hands again. “Look, I know this is all new for you…”

“It is,” I interrupted, nodding my head in agreement. “But it’s okay. I’m just going to have to get used to it, right?”

“Unfortunately, I think it means that we’re both going to have to,” Brian said with a worried frown, shaking his head slightly. “I’m afraid that what it also means is that we might have to think about changing our habits a bit. I’m worried that quiet mornings in public restaurants like this might eventually have to become a thing of the past.”

His words hit me incredibly hard.

“Well…” I spluttered. “Well, what are we going to do then? How are we going to eat or shop or… or…”

“I don’t know,” Brian answered, lightly squeezing my hands. “This is all new to me too. I’ve never had to deal with this problem until recently. All I know is, there are going to be times when I want to be alone with you, with no distractions, and those are the times that we’re going to have to get creative so that we’re not in the public eye being stared at as if we’re on display. I know this is going to be a whole new way of life, and that I’m asking an awful lot of you…”

“No, you’re not,” I sighed, squeezing his hands in return. “So, things might have to be a little different now. So what? As long as we’ve got each other, we can face anything, right?”

Brian gave me a heartwarming smile and said, “Have I told you lately how much I love the fact that you support me no matter what?”

“Here’s your coffee!” our waitress, Emily, suddenly announced, completely ruining our beautiful moment, as she set our cups down in front of us with a clatter, sending coffee sloshing over the rims and onto the table.

Brian and I gave each other a small, exasperated grin that spoke volumes as we let go of each other’s hands. I took a deep breath and tried to resign myself to the fact that ours was going to be a strange new world of autographs and pictures with fans and God only knew what else. It felt odd to think that I now had to share my fiancé with the rest of the world, but I knew in my heart that as long as Brian and I stayed together and held strong, that no amount of rabid fans could tear apart what we had. Learning how to cope with being engaged to someone famous was definitely going to take some time, and I genuinely hoped that my nerves were up for the challenge.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

We quickly ate our breakfast and then got back on the road, continuing along the M4 until we reached the Bristol Channel. We crossed over that and into Wales, traveling along a small winding road, passing farms and small villages as we went. Eventually, after a bit of jig-jogging around, we turned onto Rockfield Road, where we continued on for a few miles until a pair of ivy covered stone gates came into view on our left. Brian turned onto the long, narrow, tree-lined drive, and soon clusters of red brick buildings and white-stuccoed farmhouses came into view. 

The place was enormous, and we were so busy looking at our surroundings and trying to figure out exactly where we needed to go, that we didn’t spot the large red tractor attempting to cross the driveway from a neighboring field until it was almost too late. Brian hit the brakes, sending dust clouds into the air as we skidded to a halt on the dirt-covered driveway, both of us clutching at our chests over our close call with fate. 

Completely unperturbed, the man driving the tractor called out in a lilting Welsh accent, “Are you with the band Queen?”

“Yes,” Brian called back, letting out a small cough over the amount of dust that had made it’s way inside the car.

“The lodgings are the brick buildings to your left,” the man informed us, shouting over the noise of the tractor engine so that we could hear him. “You’ll find a small driveway between the buildings. Just make your way through there and you’ll find lots of space to park.”

“Brilliant! Ta!” Brian smiled, giving the man a thumbs-up and a nod before rolling up the driver’s side window.

We followed the man’s instructions and drove ahead, finding the small entranceway that he’d spoken of, which opened onto a large, square, gravel-covered courtyard that was surrounded on all sides by long narrow brick buildings with low sloping roofs. Straight ahead of us parked directly in front of one of the buildings was Roger’s Triumph, with Roger himself standing beside it, laughing with a middle-aged guy with shoulder-length dark blonde hair whom I didn’t recognize. Sam was bent over the trunk, meanwhile, pulling out a couple of small bags, and turned briefly to wave at us before hauling her loot through an open door in the nearby building. John Harris’ large white van was there as well, parked off to our left, although John himself was nowhere to be seen.

“Ah, good, looks like Harris has already arrived with the equipment,” Brian remarked. “Guess I’ll just pull up next to Roger’s car for right now.”

Brian did just that, and almost before we could get out of the car we were greeted by both Roger and the middle aged guy he’d been talking to.

“I see you two made it in one piece,” Roger smiled as Brian and I shut our car doors and stretched from the long drive.

“Yeah, still alive and kicking,” Brian grinned.

“You’re Brian, am I correct?” the middle aged guy asked, reaching out to shake Brian’s hand.

“Yeah, Brian May,” Brian nodded, taking the man’s offered hand.

“Very nice to meet you,” the man replied. “I’m Kingsley Ward. My brother Charles and I own this place.”

“Right, okay. We’ve heard a lot about you fellas from Mott The Hoople,” Brian said.

“Only nice things I hope?” Kingsley smiled.

“Only the best things, honestly,” Brian said sincerely. “Ian and the guys went on and on about you and your lovely family and what excellent care they received from all of you.”

“That’s wonderful to hear,” Kingsley said in a modest tone. “We do try to take care of our guests. My brother Charles and his wife Ann help me oversee the running of the farm, the studios and the guest quarters, and even their kids help out with the animals and the cooking and cleaning up. We’re a completely family run business. Well, except for Otto, our maintenance engineer. He’s a recent hire, and probably roaming around here on the tractor somewhere.”

“Ah, he must be the chap that we nearly crashed into on our way in,” Brian laughed.

“Oh! I hope you’re all right! He didn’t hit you, did he?” Kingsley asked in a concerned voice.

“No, no, we didn’t hit each other, and it was completely my own fault,” Brian assured him. “I wasn’t watching where I was going. I was too mesmerized by the sheer size of this place and how many buildings there are.”

“We do have quite a bit of land here,” Kingsley nodded proudly. “One thousand acres total, and despite the fact that we’ve become famous for our studios, we’re still a real working farm with horses, cattle, sheep and chickens. We also grow wheat and barley amongst other things, but you’ll see all of that as you wander around the place.”

Kingsley reached into his back pocket then and pulled out a walkie-talkie radio.

“Let me just have someone fetch you the key to your room,” he said, and proceeded to talk with his brother’s wife, Ann, through the walkie-talkie, asking if someone could bring out the key for room number three. Within minutes a teenage girl with long blonde hair was running into the courtyard with a gold-colored key dangling from a plastic keychain.

“Thank you Lisa,” Kingsley told the girl before she was off and running again. He motioned Brian and me towards a door that was just to the left of the door Sam had entered a few minutes before, and we followed behind him as he unlocked it for us.

The building itself was very unusual for the British Isles, and actually reminded me of something I might see back home in the small western town of Clovis. Rather than being tall and narrow like most British buildings that I was accustomed to, it was long and spread out with a low roofline, almost like the ranch style buildings that littered most California neighborhoods. It was made of red brick with wooden posts evenly spaced out in front to hold up the edge of the grey slate roof, and there were even wooden wagon wheels placed by some of the doors for decoration, giving the place a true old-time western feel.

Kingsley threw the door open wide and Brian and I followed him into a small living room space with a brown couch, two matching chairs, a wooden coffee table and a couple of bookshelves filled with books and knick-knacks against the wall to our right. I was slightly confused, wondering where our bed was at, then I looked to my left and realized that there was a narrow wooden staircase leading up to a second level.

“There’s a second story?” I asked, puzzled as to how such a thing could possibly be since the building looked so low from the outside.

“Yes, there is indeed,” Kingsley replied. “Follow me and I’ll show you.”

We followed him up the creaky wooden stairs, and lo and behold, when we reached the top, there was an entire second story replete with a full-size bed, two nightstands, a dresser, a vanity with a swivel mirror sitting on top and a tall roomy wardrobe cabinet in the corner. I also noticed a small door that I assumed led into the bathroom. It was almost like we were staying in our own little one-up one-down style flat. Granted, there wasn’t much headroom in the second story, with the roof sloping downwards so sharply, but it was a full second story nonetheless. Brian, I noticed, was already slouched over, trying to avoid hitting his head.

“Well, there you are,” Kingsley said, handing Brian the key to our room. “I hope this will do.”

“This will do just fine,” Brian smiled. “It’s like a little home away from home.”

“Excellent, I’m glad you like it,” Kingsley grinned, giving Brian a friendly pat on the shoulder. “Well, if you’ll excuse me I must go check on the accommodations for the rest of your band. Please feel free to bring all of your things inside though, and make yourselves at home. And if you need anything, just flag someone down, they’ll know where to find me.”

“Thank you, we will,” Brian said.

We wandered back downstairs and outside where we found Roger and Sam rifling through the remaining contents of their trunk, Roger grumbling at Sam, telling her that she’d brought too many things with her.

“Oh, yes, says the guy who brought at least a dozen shirts,” Sam railed, hauling a folded garment bag out the trunk.

“I have to have clean clothes!” Roger argued. “How do I know whether or not we can do laundry here?”

“Have you seen the size of this place?” Sam asked, giving Roger a withering look. “I’m willing to bet they have a washer and dryer _somewhere_ on the premises.”

She shook her head and rolled her eyes at Brian and me as she walked past, taking her garment bag inside the room she was sharing with Roger.

“Trouble in paradise?” Brian teased Roger, as he popped open our own trunk so that we could start unloading things.

“Nah, I just like to take the piss out of her every now and then,” Roger grinned as he wandered over to Brian’s car and leaned against the side, folding his arms across his chest. “So what do you think of the place? Rooms are nice, aren’t they?”

“Very nice,” Brian agreed, reaching into the trunk to untangle the handles of two of the duffle bags we’d brought. “I had no idea the place would be this big. So where are Freddie and John anyway? I figured they’d likely beat us here.”

“They should be here anytime,” Roger answered, glancing down at his watch. “They’re coming out in John’s new car.”

“John got a new car?” I asked, taking a duffle bag from Brian as he hoisted it from the trunk.

“Yeah, well, not _brand_ new,” Roger said. “It’s about ten years old actually, but it’s in really nice shape, I’ve seen it. He’s been saving money for it for ages.”

“What kind of car is it?” I asked.

“A Land Rover,” Roger replied.

“A Land Rover?” Brian questioned, pulling a couple small boxes out of the trunk. “That’s what he finally settled on? Those things are massive!”

“That’s why he bought it,” Roger grinned. “He figured he could haul Veronica, Freddie and Mary around, along with everybody’s stuff, with no problem.”

“Well, I suppose if one of us needs to haul Freddie around then I’m glad its John and not me,” Brian laughed.

We took our bags into our room and up the stairs, flopping them onto the bed for the time being.

“Well, what do you think of Wales so far Mrs. May?” Brian grinned at me, reaching out to wrap me up in his arms.

“It’s pretty,” I smiled. “Not too terribly different from England though.”

“Oh! Blasphemy!” Brian teased. “Don’t let a Welshman hear you say that, or they might lock you up in the local stocks!”

I laughed and held up my hands in surrender, saying, “Okay! Okay! I’ll keep my opinions to myself.”

Brian turned serious then, giving me a deep and meaningful look, as he tucked a lock of my hair behind my ear and said, “Did you ever dream in a million years when you were growing up in Fresno that you’d be spending time in a place like Wales when you got older?”

“I never dreamed that I’d meet somebody like you that would take me on such exciting adventures, period!” I laughed, reaching up to give Brian a kiss, and it hit me in that moment how true my words really were. My life had changed so much since Brian and I had been together, and he was absolutely right, I couldn’t have imagined while I was growing up that I would get to see so many places in the UK, places that I had never even heard of, let alone thought of visiting. And I had a feeling that England and Wales were just going to be the tip of the iceberg. With Queen’s success, who knew where the band would be going next? All I knew was that I couldn’t wait to see the world and share such wonderful adventures with Brian. We would get to see so many places for the first time together, and it would be magical. The girl from small town Fresno and the boy from the tiny London suburb of Feltham were going to take on the world and enjoy all that it had to offer one journey at a time, and I couldn’t wait.


	79. Chapter 79

Brian and I spent some time unpacking and arranging our room just the way we wanted it once we’d hauled everything up from the car. Since we were going to be in Wales for two whole weeks, we thought it best to hang up our clothing and make use of the dresser, so we didn’t have to feel as though we were living out of a suitcase the entire time. We set up all of our toiletries in the bathroom, laid out our cameras on the downstairs coffee table, and I perused the books on the bookshelves of our tiny living room area while Brian set up his telescope and placed his guitars on stands.

“Ha! Look at this!” I said cheerfully, plucking a worn paperback novel from one of the shelves and holding it up so that Brian could see it. “They have a copy of _Sense and Sensibility_ in our room.”

“It’s as if they knew you were coming,” Brian grinned, as he bent over and made some adjustments to one of his guitar stands. “Anything there that I might like to read? I forgot to bring a book with me. Not that I’ll probably have much time to read.”

“Hmm, let’s see…” I said, scanning the titles on the shelves. “There’s something here called _A Wrinkle In Time_ that sounds very sci-fi, and _The Andromeda Stain,_ and… oh look! They have a copy of George Orwell’s _1984!”_

Brian chuckled and said, “It looks like they knew we _both_ were coming!”

Suddenly our door burst open and Roger thrust his head inside. “Fred and John are here!” he announced without further introduction, then immediately turned to leave.

“Hey!” Brian bellowed from across the room before Roger could shut the door.

“What?” Roger asked innocently, popping his head back inside.

“You’re not going to just burst into our room like that anytime you please, right?” Brian asked. “Carrie and I might have been walking around naked for all you know!”

Roger quirked an eyebrow first at Brian and then at me.

“Let’s see,” he began in a tone dripping with sarcasm. “You’re fussing with your guitars and telescope by the looks of things, and Carrie is already digging into your library of books. Er, yeah. Not too worried about finding either of you ducks naked at this point.”

He flashed each of us a crooked grin and withdrew his head from our room, shutting the door without further ado.

“It’s going to be a long two weeks with him, isn’t it?” I sighed, shoving _1984_ back onto the shelf.

Brian and I meandered outside a short time later to find the entire courtyard buzzing with excitement. Not only had Freddie, John, Mary and Veronica arrived, but there were lots of other people milling around as well, all laughing and chatting and trying to get a look at John’s new car, which was a giant orange monstrosity that looked more suited to a military encampment than the streets of London. Some of the people I recognized right away, like Kingsley Ward, John Harris and Queen’s producer, Roy Thomas Baker, but others I wasn’t so sure about. I was pretty sure that I recognized Queen’s engineer, Mike Stone, though it had been a while, but there was another man and a woman that I didn’t know at all. I suspected that they were probably part of the Ward family, though, since the guy resembled Kingsley a little.

“You could fit an entire bloody grand piano in the back of this thing!” Roy Thomas Baker suddenly exclaimed, shoving his head through one of the rear windows of John’s new Land Rover.

“Yes, well, if the Sheffield brothers will ever give me the money to buy one, then we’ll have to see!” Freddie said bitterly.

“They’re coming out tomorrow you know,” Roy casually told Freddie as he continued to poke around in John’s car.

“What, the Sheffield brothers? Why?” Freddie demanded.

“Just to check up on you lot, make sure everything is going as it should be,” Roy replied. “Queen is their cash cow now, you know.”

“Well, where the hell is _my_ cash if I’m their _cow?!”_ Freddie shouted indignantly, hands firmly planted on his hips. He spotted Brian and me approaching the group then, and said, “Ah! Brian, there you are! Did you hear what Roy just said? The Sheffield’s are coming out tomorrow to make sure we’re doing what we’re supposed to do in order to make _them_ their money! I mean, can you believe it?! While we still exist on a meager 20 quid a week!”

“I heard,” Brian nodded solemnly. 

“Are you lot still only making 20 quid a week after you’ve had a top ten hit and been on _Top of The Pops?”_ Roy asked in a stunned voice, pulling his head from John’s back window.

“Yes!” Freddie exclaimed. “I mean, how do they expect me to write them more hit songs, when I can’t even afford a fucking piano to write the songs _on,_ for God’s sake?!”

Roy simply shook his head and quietly said, “Yeah, something’s not right.”

“Well, I may not be able to offer you your _own_ piano, but I can offer you a couple of lovely grand pianos to use while you’re here,” the man whom I didn’t recognize said to Freddie with a warm smile as he wandered over to join in our conversation. The woman that I also didn’t recognize followed right behind him. He extended his hand out to Freddie and said, “Charles Ward, and this is my wife, Ann.”

“Lovely to meet you, dears,” Freddie said, shaking Charles’ hand first, then his wife’s. “And I’m looking forward to playing your pianos! Are they both in one studio?”

“We have two studios now,” Charles explained. “The Coach House and The Quadrangle built just last year. Would you like to see them?”

“I’m keen if everyone else is,” Freddie replied.

It took a bit of wrangling, but between Charles and Freddie, they managed to convince everyone that it was a perfect time to check out everything the studios had to offer.

We shuffled across the graveled courtyard as an entire group, and made our way toward a set of large, arched wooden doors that led into the building adjacent to where our rooms were located. We were told that this was where the newer Quadrangle studio was housed. I could hear John Harris and Mike Stone chattering away about how state of the art the studio was, since they’d already been puttering around inside of it, but to be honest, I found it a little hard to believe, as I approached the long narrow country style building, that I would find anything other than cows and stacks of hay inside.

To my amazement, however, when the doors were thrown open we were all greeted by a large control room filled with all the modern bells and whistles. A huge mixing board with large speakers and recording machines took up the entire right side of the room, while two very comfy looking black leather couches, along with two sturdy wooden coffee tables, took up the left side of the room. Through a doorway to our left was a live recording room, which housed Freddie’s beautiful glossy black piano that he couldn’t wait to get his hands on, and through another doorway to the right was the rest of the studio, including isolation booths for recording vocals and an entire drum room, where Harris already had Roger’s kit set up. Even I, who knew essentially nothing about recording studios, had to admit that the place was pretty impressive, and the guys looked just like four kids who had been given free reign in a candy shop.

We crossed the property toward the family’s manor house after we were finished inspecting the Quadrangle Studio so that the guys could also see the layout of the Coach House Studio. Like the name suggested, the Coach House Studio was constructed inside of the building that once would have housed the family’s carriages many years before, and as I found out, the Quadrangle Studio had an interesting history as well, having originally been the stables for the family’s prize-winning Shire horses. It was an interesting setup I had to admit. I would have never dreamed in a million years that an old coach house and stable in the middle of the Welsh countryside could ever be the scene where hit records might be recorded. I certainly had to admire the Ward family’s imagination and ingenuity that was for sure!

Once we’d seen everything that each of the studios had to offer, we headed back to the courtyard area so that Kingsley, Charles and Ann could show us around the remainder of our lodgings. There were two additional long narrow brick buildings besides the ones housing our rooms and the studio that made up the rest of the Quadrangle. One of the buildings was home to the kitchen and dining areas, where we were told that three home cooked meals would be served to us everyday. The kitchen would always be open as well with a fully stocked fridge and pantry in case we were in need of a snack. The last of the buildings, as it turned out, was sort of a recreation room where we could relax and have a bit of fun. There was a large living room area filled with couches, tables and a TV, and in the next room over they even had a ping-pong table set up. Freddie was ecstatic about this, since he was apparently an expert at ping-pong, something which I hadn’t known before. There were still remnants here and there of the building’s former life as a stable too, with odd rooms tucked away in unusual places filled with saddles, bridles and other assorted tack equipment. It was a very strange world where country seemed to be living in harmony with rock ‘n’ roll. Overall, the place did seem very nice, I had to admit, and very quiet. And since Brian was still in need of a bit of rest after his bout with hepatitis, I thought that a little peace and quiet might be just what we needed.

“So who wants to go out and have a few drinks in Monmouth tonight?” John Harris suddenly piped up as we all wandered back out into the courtyard.

So much for rest and relaxation, I thought.

“There’s an excellent pub called The Green Dragon right in the heart of town,” Kingsley informed us.

“Sounds good to me,” Harris grinned. “What do you fellas say? A night out to celebrate being back in the studio?”

“Well, of course we should celebrate being back in the studio, darling!” Freddie exclaimed. “I mean, this _is_ going to be our best album yet! Just let Mary and I get settled in first.”

“Yes, Veronica and I still need to unpack as well,” John added.

“What do you say we all meet out here in the courtyard at around, I don’t know, seven o’clock?” Harris asked, turning his wrist to consult the time on his watch.

“Sounds perfect,” Freddie said on behalf of us all.

Everyone went their separate ways then, with the Ward family leaving to attend to meals and chores, Freddie, Mary, John and Veronica all heading towards John’s car to unload it, and Roger, Sam, Harris, Mike and Roy all walking back over to the Quadrangle studio so that Roger could inspect his kit and make sure that everything met with his specifications.

“Well, looks like we’re on our own for a bit,” Brian smiled down at me. He reached for my hand, interlocking my fingers with his and said, “Feel like checking the rest of this place out? We haven’t gone for a nice quiet walk in the country for a while.”

“We haven’t, have we?” I smiled back, giving his hand a quick squeeze. We strolled along toward the driveway that led out of the courtyard as I buried my free hand into my pants pocket and let out a contented sigh. “You know, I seem to recall another walk in the country one time in Hampshire…”

“God, how long ago has that been now?” Brian asked.

“Let’s see… March of ’72, so a little over two years now,” I replied.

“And look how far we’ve come,” Brian said, leading me out of the courtyard toward one of the nearby meadows. “I can still remember the two of us just walking for miles that day, and talking the whole time. How on earth did I not bore you to death going on and on about my astronomy thesis?”

“You could never bore me,” I laughed. “I love it when you talk about things that you’re passionate about, astronomy included. I may not understand everything you’re saying, but I do pay attention, and the look you get on your face it worth it all.”

“What look is that?” Brian asked, grinning down at me.

“You just get this look… It’s hard to explain,” I answered. “Your face sort of lights up like a little kid with a new toy, and you get so enthusiastic. I end up feeling passionate about whatever you’re talking about, just because I can see and feel how passionate you are.”

“You know, thank God I found you,” Brian sighed. “Or, I guess I should thank Freddie and Roger for finding you. I could have searched the world a thousand times over and still not found anyone else as perfect for me as you are. I can’t wait until we’re finally married and able to start a family.”

“Oh yeah?” I asked, my eyebrows shooting up in the air as I nearly stumbled over a small rock. “With you being so busy with Queen I wasn’t sure if you’d _want_ to start a family any time soon.”

“No, I do,” Brian replied, then hastily added, “that is, if you do, of course.”

“I do,” I smiled. “You know me. The perpetual mother hen.”

“I can’t wait to see you become a mum,” Brian grinned. “You’re going to be right in your element.”

“And you’re going to make the kindest, sweetest dad ever, but are you sure that it’s going to be okay with all the touring and everything?” I asked. “I don’t want to feel as if I’m holding you back in some way.”

“You know, I’ve actually been giving this a lot of thought lately,” Brian said in a serious tone. “There are always going to be reasons why we should wait to start a family – touring, recording, whatever – but I don’t think we can use those things as excuses to put it off. If we wait to start a family because we’re looking for the perfect moment, then it’s never going to happen. We can’t let Queen completely rule our lives. We still have to be us, and I know that we could make it work if we have a family, even if it means taking our kids out on the road. You’re going to be such a great mum I have absolutely no doubt that you could handle it.”

“I’m sure that I could too if it means being with you,” I smiled. “But how many kids are we talking here?”

“Oh, at least ten,” Brian said completely straight-faced.

“Ten?!” I exclaimed.

“Sure! Don’t you want a big family?” Brian asked, a mischievous sparkle lighting up his eyes.

“Not _that_ big!” I laughed, smacking him playfully on the arm.

“Okay, okay,” Brian chuckled, wrapping an arm around me and pulling me into his side. “We’ll worry about how many when the time comes.”

We walked around a little while longer, marveling over the beauty of the Welsh countryside and stopping briefly at the animal pens to visit with the Ward family’s sheep, horses and cows. Eventually we made it back to our room with about an hour to spare before we had to meet everyone out in the courtyard. We showered and changed and I quickly did my hair and make-up, and before we knew it, it was seven o’clock.

We all loaded up into our separate cars and made a straight shot down Rockfield Road, ending up in the tiny nearby town of Monmouth in only a few minutes time. I couldn’t help but “ooh” and “ahh” as we entered the town, passing by historic buildings and shop fronts as we went, many of which clearly dated back to at least the Tudor era. The Green Dragon was just ahead on our right, but I barely noticed the relatively plain white building as we pulled up to park, because there was a gorgeous three story Georgian house just to the left of the pub, an old stone church sitting caddy-corner from it, and directly across the way, was an old crumbling stone bridge with a gatehouse that looked as though it dated back to medieval times at least.

“Ooh!” I gasped, hanging my head out of the passenger side window of Brian’s Mini. “Can we go see that before we go into the pub?”

“Okay, I get it now,” Brian laughed as he turned off the car.

“Get what?” I questioned, turning to face him in the driver’s seat.

“The enthusiastic look you say I get when I’m talking about something I love. I’m looking at it right now,” Brian grinned. “And you know what? You’re right. It’s contagious. I grew up with all this old stuff, so I don’t always pay attention to it, but when I’m with you, it’s like I’m seeing Britain for the first time through your eyes.”

I smiled and reached over to give Brian a kiss, and as usual, one kiss led to two and then three, until we were jolted out of our state of bliss by someone pounding on the driver’s side window.

“Oi!” Roger yelled with Sam peeking around his side grinning at us. “Are we going in or what?”

“Yeah, yeah, we are…” Brian replied, opening up his car door as I scooted back to the passenger side and did the same. “Carrie just wanted to see the bridge over there first.”

Roger craned his neck to get a better look at the bridge in question.

“Why?” he asked, completely dumbstruck. “It’s just a pile of old rocks.”

“Actually…” interjected a short, plump, little old man as he walked his Terrier past us on the sidewalk. “That’s the only medieval gated bridge left in Britain.”

“You don’t say?” Roger replied with an arched eyebrow, clearly unmoved by this new bit of information.

“It sure is!” the man replied with a nod, continuing on his merry way.

“See, there you go,” I told Roger. “There are _some_ people who appreciate things of historical significance.”

Roger just rolled his eyes and said, “I’ll see you inside the pub.”

It only took about ten minutes for Brian and me to walk over to the bridge and look it over. The fact that the sky was turning dusk only seemed to add to the towering gatehouse’s dark and mysterious ambiance. I could practically feel the building’s history and everything that it had seen throughout it’s hundreds of years just by touching the stone of the arched gateway. The bridge crossed over the River Monnow and was only open to pedestrians, so Brian and I walked across it, took a few pictures, since, thankfully, we’d remembered our cameras, and then headed back toward the Green Dragon with me snapping a few shots of the Georgian house and the old church as I went.

“Are you ducks finished sightseeing?” Freddie smirked as we walked through the door.

“For the moment,” Brian replied.

The pub was bustling with people for a Monday night, so I figured it must have been popular with the locals. Voices and laughter filled the tiny place, as people gathered in the corner to play darts or congregated around the pool table in the next room over. I could hear drink orders being shouted across the bar, and most of the tables were taken by young college aged kids, munching on burgers or fish ‘n’ chips or any other variety of pub grub that the place had to offer. I had to admit, the food smelled delicious, and it dawned on me that Brian and I hadn’t eaten anything since we’d stopped off for breakfast in Swindon.

“What do you think fellas?” John Harris called out from our left, where he’d pushed two large tables together. “Do we have enough chairs for everyone?”

“Looks like enough space to me!” Mike Stone replied, as he took the seat nearest the door.

“I’ll go order the drinks!” Freddie called out to the group at large.

“Oh, I’ll go with you,” Roy said, giving Freddie a quick pat on the back. “We should get a couple bottles of champagne…”

“Come sit down guys!” Roger’s voice rang out, as he pulled out a chair for Sam.

We did as Roger requested and made our way past a group of guys that were trying to get out the front door. There was a long wooden bench seat running along the wall underneath the window on one side of our group of tables, and then several wooden chairs across the tables facing the window and away from the bar area. Brian and I took one of the chairs each, sitting next to Sam and Roger on one side and John and Veronica on the other. Mary slid across the bench near John Harris and Mike Stone, and when Freddie and Roy returned from the bar, they slid in next to her.

“Champagne is on its way!” Freddie announced.

“Lord, is anybody else starving?” Roy asked the group at large as he picked up a menu from the table. “I’m hungry enough to eat a horse!”

“You’re always hungry enough to eat a horse!” Mike jokingly replied. “Remember when we were at Trident working on the last Queen album?!”

A roar of laughter rang out around the table, and I suddenly felt very left out, since I’d still been in the States when they’d recorded the last album.

“Oh my God! I’ve never seen anyone eat so much in my life!” Brian exclaimed. 

“What?” Roy asked innocently. “It was a bloody buffet for God’s sake! I was going to get my money’s worth!”

“You not only got _your_ money’s worth, but all of _our_ money’s worth as well!” Freddie laughed.

“What can I say? I’m a growing boy,” Roy joked, never taking his eyes off of his menu for a second. “I hear the roasted lamb is excellent here, and so is the seafood.”

“Mm, I wonder if they have prawns?” Brian asked, reaching for another menu.

We all took a few minutes to peruse the menu as the bartender brought over our bottles of champagne. Everyone’s glasses were filled, and suddenly two bottles of Moet & Chandon were completely gone. We ordered our food and chatted for a bit, and soon it was decided that we needed more drinks as the champagne glasses were starting to run low. Mary volunteered for all of us girls to go get the next round, so I got up and trudged over to the bar with Mary, Veronica and Sam, even though I’d been perfectly comfortable sitting in my little wooden chair, listening to all the guys shooting the bull with each other.

“I’ve got to say, Roy really gets on my nerves sometimes,” Mary complained as we squeezed our way up to the bar.

“Really?” I asked. “I think he’s hilarious.”

“He’s just so loud, and he’s constantly trying to take the piss out of Freddie,” Mary said in a haughty tone as the bartender approached, asking us what we wanted. Before any of us could answer, Mary said, “I think the fellas over at the table want a couple bottles of white wine. I’ll take a glass of merlot, and what did you girls want?”

“Um, actually, I think Brian would probably be happier with a Guinness,” I said half to the bartender and half to Mary. “So I’ll take one of those, and, something fruity sounds good. Can I get a screwdriver?”

“Sure thing,” the bartender smiled. “What about you two ladies?”

“I’m with Carrie,” Sam answered. “I think I’ll take a screwdriver.”

“And I’ll take another glass of the Moet & Chandon,” Veronica added quietly.

“You know, why don’t you just let us have another bottle of Moet & Chandon. I’m sure it won’t go to waste,” Mary grinned.

“Coming right up ladies,” the bartender replied jovially.

“I’ve got to use the ladies room,” Mary announced. “Anyone else?”

“Oh, I’ll go with you,” Veronica said.

“I’m good,” I said.

“Yeah, me too,” Sam added.

“Why do women always have to pee in packs?” I whispered to Sam as the other two ladies walked away.

“Hell if I know,” Sam said with a crooked grin. “But leave it to those two to have to go together.”

“Is it just me,” I began, “or has Mary gotten even bitchier since I left for the States?”

“Oh my God, you have no idea,” Sam replied as the bartender slid the bottles of Guinness and Moet & Chandon in front of us. “That episode at the buffet that the guys were talking about earlier? We almost couldn’t go to the place because Mary thought it was beneath her, even though they had excellent food.”

“Oh Lord,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Well, I didn’t like the way that she just presumed to know what _all_ the guys wanted to drink just now. She may have Freddie wrapped around her little finger, but she sure as hell doesn’t own Brian, Roger or John!”

“Oh, we nearly got into it at the studio one day while you were in the States because she started talking shit about the way Roger was playing,” Sam told me. “I watched her lean across to Veronica and whisper something about Roger always coming into the studio hung over, and I nearly lost it.”

“Are you serious?” I gasped. “She’d better not ever say anything about Brian in front of me.”

The bartender walked over with the bottles of wine at that moment then turned to grab my drink and Sam’s, sliding them both in front of us.

Sam and I had just dipped into our wallets to pay for our drinks, when John suddenly sidled up next to us at the bar looking completely ashen faced.

“We’ve been spotted,” he told Sam and me quietly.

“What?” I asked. “Who’s been spotted?”

“The band has,” John replied, reaching for the beer that I’d bought for Brian and drinking it down one gulp at a time before I could say a word otherwise.

A crease began to form between my brows as Sam and I both turned to see what on earth was going on over at our table. Apparently, while we’d been gossiping about Mary, a whole group of young girls had swarmed our table taking up any empty seats that they could find, including both my seat and Sam’s. One of the girls was even brazen enough to not only drape herself on the bench seat next to Freddie, but to practically sit on his lap as well.

“These are fans I take it?” I scowled at John.

“Yes, and I hate it!” John replied vehemently. “We can’t go anywhere anymore without being recognized.”

“Well, are these girls just asking for autographs?” Sam asked John, her eyes never straying from Roger.

“I don’t know,” John answered. “One of them has a camera I think.”

Just then Mary and Veronica returned from the bathroom and followed our gazes over to the table.

“What’s going on over there?” Mary asked. “Who is that girl sitting on Freddie’s lap?!”

“Apparently she’s a fan,” I said.

“Fans are meant to ask for autographs, not lounge across my boyfriend!” Mary scowled, her hands planted on her hips.

I could see from across the room that the guys _were,_ in fact, giving the girls autographs, and soon a small Kodak Instamatic camera was being brandished by one of the young ladies as well, just like John had said, and flash bulbs started popping as the girl took pictures of her friends posing with Brian, Roger and Freddie in turn. I was starting to think that perhaps the whole thing might be innocent after all, and that the girls would just get their pictures and autographs and go, but then all hell broke loose.

I noticed the girl who had taken my seat start to slowly inch her hand up behind Brian’s chair, eventually allowing it to rest on the back of Brian’s head where she proceeded to twine a finger into one of his curls. I could instantly feel my anger rising, and was about to fly across the room and explain to the girl in no uncertain terms that she needed to keep her damn hands to herself, when the girl who had taken Sam’s seat suddenly leapt onto Roger’s lap and planted a huge kiss on Roger’s lips, completely taking him by surprise. 

“Oh, I don’t fucking think so!!” Sam screamed, and set her drink down on the bar with such force that it slid over the edge, landing at the bartender’s feet. Sam had the speed and reflexes of a cat, and before I could stop her, she dashed off across the room hell bent for either Roger or the girl on his lap, I wasn’t sure which one.

“Sam!” I yelled belatedly, and ran after her with Mary, Veronica and John hot on my heels.

Brian, I noticed, had gently pushed the girl with the wandering hands away, and Freddie, likewise, had managed to disentangle himself from his overzealous fan. Roger, who was clearly still in shock, shoved at the girl on his lap so swiftly that she landed with a thud on the floor directly in front of him. Roger saw Sam charging his way and pled his innocence by immediately standing up and raising his hands in the air as if to say he’d had nothing to do with the whole thing.

Before I could stop Sam, she was on top of the girl, pulling her up off of the floor by her long dark hair. The girl was screaming and flailing, trying to lash out at any part of Sam that she could get her hands on. Soon a couple of her friends decided to come to her rescue and joined in the melee, so I reached out to try and grab hold of Sam and pull her away before anyone could get seriously injured. My reward for being such a good friend was to get smacked in the eye by the flailing hand of the girl who had kissed Roger.

The next thing I knew, I was being dragged out of the way by Brian, Sam was being pulled off of the girl by Roger, and the girl’s furious friends were lifting her the rest of the way off of the floor threatening to call the police on us.

“What in the _blazes_ is wrong with you girls?!” the bartender suddenly shrieked, as he ran around the bar and across the room to our table. “Out! All of you! _Now!_ I will not have fighting in my pub!”

“You should call the police on that bloody lunatic!” the girl who had been draped across Freddie shouted at the bartender while pointing a finger at Sam, who was still being held back by Roger.

“You’re lucky that I didn’t do the same thing to you, you stupid twat, for putting your hands all over _my_ boyfriend!” Mary suddenly screamed.

My eyebrows shot up into the air, and I found that I suddenly had a little more respect for Mary.

“And you’re _all_ bloody lucky that I don’t call the police on every one of you!” the bartender howled. “Now get the hell out before I change my mind!”

“Come on ladies and gents, time to go,” Roy said as calmly as possible, as he attempted to round us all up.

Sam was still fit to be tied, so Roger took her by the shoulders and led her outside, mumbling soothing words to her as he went. Freddie did much the same with Mary, and John and Veronica were already long since out the door. I gathered up my purse and camera, and noticed that Sam had left her purse at the bar, so I turned to walk across the room to grab it, only to have the bartender try and stop me by jumping in front of me and shouting at me, once again, to get out.

“She’s only trying to get her friend’s handbag for God’s sake!” Brian shouted, reaching out to grab the bartender’s arm and pull him away from me. The bartender was already seeing red, and I thought for a second that he was going to take a swing at Brian. 

I snatched up Sam’s purse as quickly as possible and dashed back to Brian, grabbing hold of his arm and pulling him into my side as I said, “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

We marched out the door of the pub with John Harris, Mike and Roy following right behind us. The girls who had started the whole mess took their sweet time gathering up their things to leave, I noticed, without the bartender saying a word to them.

“This is getting fucking ridiculous!” Brian shouted as we made our way out into warm night air. “We can’t even go out to eat these days without being mauled!”

Everyone else was still standing just outside the pub as well nodding their agreement, particularly John.

“Look, just calm down…” Roy said in a soothing voice.

“No, I won’t calm down!” Brian shot back. “That girl in there was about ready to cut a lock of my hair off!”

“Is _that_ what she was doing?!” I demanded. 

“Okay, fine! I get it!” Roy interjected, holding up his hands in a gesture of acquiescence. “You boys have gotten too famous. We’re just going to have to be more careful in public places from now on, that’s all, or avoid them all together!”

“Look, I don’t mind talking to fans or signing autographs, but when they start to want pieces of me…” Brian fumed.

“I hear you, okay?” Roy said. “It’s not going to happen again. I’m going to talk to the Sheffield brothers about the whole situation tomorrow. Now, in the meantime, let’s get back to Rockfield and see if there’s any dinner left, and hopefully we can all have a nice, _quiet_ rest of the evening, all right?”

“Yeah, fine,” Brian finally said, trying to calm himself down.

We all made our way back to our cars, and just as we were about to leave, the girls from the pub came wandering out into the darkness. They spotted us pulling away and one of them shouted out, “See if we buy any of your bloody records again!”

“You know, I’d always thought people were mad when they talked about the price of fame,” Brian said with a shake of his head, as he sped off down Rockfield Road, “but I understand it now. Things are never going to be normal for us again are they?”

“It’s going to be okay baby,” I said, reaching out to rub Brian’s thigh reassuringly. “We’re going to be okay. We’ve just got to learn how to deal with this.”

I was trying to reassure myself every bit as much as I was trying to reassure Brian, because in reality, I honestly wasn’t sure how we were going to learn to cope with his sudden notoriety or all of the crazed fans. I was starting to worry that the price of fame might just be our sanity, and it made me very sad to think that our simple little life together was probably never going to be the same again.


	80. Chapter 80

Brian spent a very agitated night that night tossing and turning in bed. I could tell that the run in with the crazed fans at the pub had affected him deeply. I tried to soothe his jagged nerves as best I could, even trying to kiss him and touch him in the hopes that perhaps a little sex might calm him down, but it was no use, he simply wasn’t in the mood. Roger and Sam, on the other hand, whom I could hear quite clearly through the thin wall separating our rooms, seemed to find sex as the perfect solution to the raw emotion caused by the evening’s events. Not once, but three whole times.

When I cracked my eyes open early the next morning I found that I was all alone in bed. I could hear Brian playing his acoustic guitar and singing softly downstairs, so I stretched and yawned and rolled out of bed, padding my way down the creaky wooden staircase in our room.

“Hey you,” I said, rubbing my eyes as I descended the last of the stairs.

Brian was sitting on our couch over a small portable tape recorder that he’d brought with him, recording his latest ideas onto a cassette so that he wouldn’t forget them.

“Good morning,” he replied with a small smile, hitting the stop button on the tape recorder.

“Feeling better today?” I asked as I made my way over to the couch to sit next to him.

“A little,” Brian answered. “Better than last night at any rate. I’m looking forward to getting into the studio with the fellas today.”

“Well, why don’t we get dressed and go eat some breakfast so that you can get over to the studio and put a smile back on your face,” I suggested, leaning over to give him an affectionate kiss on the cheek.

“Sounds good to me,” he grinned. “I hope the others are up already.”

“I doubt that Roger is after he and Sam were screwing all night,” I said, rolling my eyes. Then a sudden idea occurred to me, and my mouth curled into an impish grin. “Hey, do you think Roger’s door is locked?”

“I have no idea. I doubt it though. Why?” Brian asked, quirking an eyebrow at me.

“Come on,” I said, reaching for Brian’s hand and pulling him up off of the couch as he hastily set his guitar down.

“What are we doing?” Brian demanded as I dragged him over to our door and led him outside into the crisp morning air. “I’m not even dressed!”

This was true. Brian had only a pair of short shorts on and nothing else. At least I had a t-shirt on with my shorts.

“Roger’s door is just right here,” I replied. “No one is going to see you.”

Roger and Sam’s door was just a few feet from our own, so it took us only a couple seconds to reach it. I grabbed hold of the knob, turned, and lo and behold it was unlocked.

I poked my head inside just to make sure that nobody was downstairs, and the coast seemed to be clear, so I opened the door further and crept inside, beckoning Brian to follow me. I could hear Roger’s light snoring coming from upstairs, so I made my way over to the staircase, trying to climb the steps as lightly as possible so that I didn’t alert anyone to our presence. I looked back at Brian, who was tiptoeing right behind me, and he just shook his head at me and grinned, knowing that I was up to no good.

When we reached the top of the stairs, there was Roger, sprawled out across his bed, sound asleep and completely naked, as Sam slept quietly next to him, clinging onto the rumpled sheets and blankets that Roger hadn’t managed to kick off of the bed. The whole scene definitely brought back a few memories from the days when I had been dating Roger myself.

“What are we doing?” Brian whispered into my ear.

“You want to get into the studio right away this morning, right? So, wake his ass up!” I whispered back.

Brian got a wicked gleam in his eyes and said, “Hang on, I saw something downstairs. Be right back!”

I watched his cute little ass wiggle in his tight white shorts as he quickly tiptoed back downstairs. He came back up a couple seconds later brandishing a tambourine and a drumstick, and I had to clap a hand over my mouth to keep from laughing out loud.

Brian placed himself at the top of the stairs with the tambourine in his left hand and the drumstick in his right, cleared his throat lightly, and began making a huge racket as he pounded on the tambourine and shouted, “Roger Taylor!! Wake up! We’ve got work to do!!”

“What the fuck?!” Roger bellowed, practically jumping out of his skin, as he quickly sat up and looked around the room for the source of the noise.

“Rise and shine!” Brian went on. “Time to eat breakfast and get into the studio!”

“Who’s making all the damn noise?!” Sam demanded, as she sat up in bed, a sheet clutched to her chest and her hair sticking up in about ten different directions.

Brian and I clutched at our sides laughing over the angry looks on both of their faces.

“God damn it Brian!!” Roger yelled, grabbing his pillow off of the bed and throwing it at us. “I fucking hate you ducks!”

Brian tossed the tambourine and drumstick across the room onto the bed, and then we made our escape, laughing uncontrollably as we ran all the way down the stairs to shouted threats from Roger.

We made our way back outside and shut Roger’s door with a snap as Brian reached for my hand with a grin stretching from ear to ear.

“Ah, that was a nice way to start the day,” he said smugly. He looked down at me then and went on, “You realize what you’ve done of course, though, right?”

“Yeah, I know, I know,” I smiled as we scrambled back into our room. “I’ve poked the sleeping bear. Now Roger is going to want to get us back. It was totally worth it though, right?”

“So worth it!” Brian laughed, as he wrapped me up in his arms playfully and dropped a kiss onto the top of my head.

Brian and I quickly showered and got dressed and met up with Freddie, Mary, John and Veronica in the dining room for breakfast a short time later. It wasn’t long before Roger and Sam wandered in looking slightly grumpy and told everyone what Brian and I had done. We all had a good laugh over it, but I could tell by the look that Roger was giving Brian and me that he wasn’t about to just let it go. If I knew Roger, and I did, then I knew that the wheels were already turning in his head about how he could get us back.

“So you know that Roger is already plotting revenge, right?” Sam grinned at me, echoing my very thoughts, as we walked across the gravel courtyard toward the Quadrangle Studio after breakfast.

“I figured as much,” I laughed.

“And you realize that I’m going to have to help him with this, don’t you? Since you scared the shit out of me this morning too,” Sam said bluntly.

“As long as you realize that Brian and I will have to get the two of you back if you get us back,” I grinned.

“Ah…” Sam sighed with a wicked gleam in her eyes, as she linked her arm through mine. “This is going to be an interesting two weeks, isn’t it?”

“So it would seem,” I chuckled.

“Just remember that you two started it,” Sam smiled.

We wandered into the studio as a group, and were immediately greeted by the self-satisfied grins of Norman and Barry Sheffield as they lounged across the black leather couches in the control room, smoking their cigars and chatting with Roy, Mike and John Harris.

“Ah, good morning boys,” Norman said in his usual oily voice. “I see you’ve brought your entourage with you.”

“Is that okay?” I asked Brian timidly. “If we’re in the way…”

“No, no, not at all,” Norman interjected, reaching over to the coffee table to snuff out the stub of his cigar. “In fact, I’m glad that you ladies are here. I’d like to have a word with you.”

We were all immediately taken aback, and gave each other some very perplexed glances. I couldn’t imagine what on earth Norman Sheffield could possibly want to talk with us girls about, but I doubted that it was anything nice.

“Why don’t you boys go ahead and get familiar with the studio,” Norman said to the guys with the same annoyingly smug grin on his face, “and my brother and I can have a little chat with your lady friends here.”

“Anything you have to say to them you can say in front of us,” Brian scowled, with Roger, Freddie and John nodding their agreement.

“No, I think this needs to be a private conversation if you gentlemen don’t mind,” Barry replied. “It won’t take long.”

I wasn’t sure about my fellow female companions, but I was starting to feel a little uneasy over the arrogant grins on Barry and Norman’s faces, so I looked at Brian to see if I could gauge what he was thinking, and he just looked back at me with nothing but confusion in his eyes. Everyone else was doing much the same, exchanging looks that clearly spelled out that something fishy was going on, and we all knew it.

“Yes, all right, fine,” Freddie finally relented, giving Mary’s shoulder a quick reassuring squeeze. “We’ll just be in the next room though, right fellas?”

Each of the guys nodded and agreed, and I watched as Freddie quickly dashed over to Roy and whispered something to him, though I couldn’t quite make out what it was. I noticed that Roy very stealthily flipped a switch, however, before the guys left the room.

“Listen, if they say or do anything to upset you, you just shout out to me, okay?” Brian whispered before giving me a quick kiss on the cheek and heading with the others into the studio.

I nodded vaguely then glanced at Sam, Mary and Veronica, and knew that the expressions on each of their faces must reflect my own. We looked just like four naughty schoolgirls that had been sent to the principal’s office and were awaiting their punishment.

“Take a seat ladies,” Norman said to us, motioning to the two leather couches, as he and his brother stood up and slid a couple of spare chairs across the room so that they could face us across the coffee table. Sam and I ended up on one couch while Mary and Veronica took the other.

“I assume you know why we’re sitting down with you four?” Barry asked, the smug grin now replaced with a look that was all business.

“Not really,” Mary replied.

“It’s come to our attention that the four of you were involved in some sort of an altercation with Queen fans last night at a local pub,” Norman said.

“I’d hardly call it an altercation,” Mary responded in her usual derisive tone. “And Veronica wasn’t involved at all.”

“Look, we’ve heard the whole story,” Barry interjected, holding up a quelling hand. “We received complaints from the pub owner this morning.”

“Oh, so you’ve only heard _his_ side of things is what you’re saying,” Sam protested.

“What we heard, _young lady,”_ Barry shot back, “is that you practically attacked a female fan last night, and that your friend there…” he said, pointing at me, “joined in and tried to help you!”

“No she didn’t!” exclaimed Sam, Mary and Veronica almost simultaneously.

“I was trying to get Sam away from the girl!” I said in my own defense. “And Sam didn’t _attack_ anybody!”

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the guys through the control room window, shaking their heads and talking with each other agitatedly, although I couldn’t hear what they were saying.

“Well, whatever you girls would like to call it, it had better not happen again,” Norman told us. “You’re just going to have to learn to deal with this sort of thing. Queen cannot afford any bad press right now, and if there are any further incidents like this, then I will see to it personally that the four of you are banned from the recording studio _and_ from any future tours!”

“Now wait just one fucking minute!” Freddie bellowed as he and the others burst back through the studio door. I realized that Roy must have turned the microphone from the control room on so that the guys could hear what was being said inside the studio. I felt like throwing my arms around Freddie for being so sneaky and clever. _“You_ are not going to tell _me_ whom I can and cannot have in the studio or out on tour!”

“Oh no?” Barry questioned in a silky voice. “Who do you think fronts the money for your tours and studio time, hmm?”

“I don’t bloody well care!” Freddie screeched back. “You _will not_ tell me who I can and can’t have with me in the studio and on tour!”

“And just what do you think you can do about it, Freddie?” Norman asked.

“I’ll stop making music for you, that’s what!” Freddie answered, his hands firmly planted on his hips. “You don’t fucking pay us what we deserve anyway, so why should I? If you lose Queen, then you lose your money. No more new Rolls Royces or whatever you’re spending _my_ money on these days!”

“You have got some nerve!” Barry shouted, a vein suddenly popping out on his forehead. “You’ve had one top ten record, my boy, _one!_ And we’re the ones who made you! So I think you’d better tread very carefully right now!”

“You didn’t fucking make us, you old bastard!” Roger suddenly exclaimed. “We made ourselves! Queen was Queen long before you came into the picture!”

“Yes, and how successful were you before we got you a recording contract, eh?” Norman questioned.

“How successful are we _now?!”_ Roger demanded. “Thanks to you lot, we only see twenty quid a week!”

“You’d better straighten up, boy, or it could be even less,” Barry calmly replied. He and his brother both stood up then and reached for the coat rack on a nearby wall to pull down their almost matching tan suede blazers. “Now I suggest that the four of you get into the studio and start working on your next album before you waste anymore of Trident’s time and money.”

Without another word they made for the door leading outside, putting their coats on as they went, but not before Brian could put in his two cents.

“By the way,” Brian calmly began as sunlight flooded through the open doorway. “Don’t ever talk to my fiancé the way you just did ever again, do you understand? She did nothing wrong last night, and I will not have her scolded like a disobedient child.”

“Ah, she’s your fiancé these days, is she?” Norman Sheffield sneered, as he smoothed his coat over his shoulders until there wasn’t a wrinkle or crease left in it. “Good luck paying for a wedding on twenty quid a week.”

And with that, both men were out the door.

Deaky seemed to sum up everyone’s feelings the best, when he quietly mumbled, “fucking wankers” as soon as the door was shut.

“Well, I don’t know about the rest of you, but I feel like making _ten_ hit records for them now!” Freddie shouted sarcastically.

“Sorry fellas, but I need some air,” Brian said with a shake of his head.

“Me too,” Roger added with that old familiar crease between his brows.

“You know, that little town we went to last night wasn’t very far from here,” Sam said as she stood up from the couch. “Why don’t we go for a walk so you guys can clear your heads.”

“That sounds like a great idea, provided we don’t run into anymore crazed fans,” Brian replied.

“You know, I’m starting to think that we’re going to have to get you guys some disguises,” I smiled.

“Well, I don’t know about John, but I think I’ll stick around and work on a few ideas until you two get back,” Freddie said.

“Yeah, I don’t really feel like going for a walk,” John added.

“We won’t be gone long,” Brian said. “Just long enough for me to get my mind off of those arsehole Sheffields.”

Brian, Roger, Sam and I all left the studio, splitting into two pairs with Roger and Brian walking and chatting in front, and Sam and me bringing up the rear. I could tell that Brian and Roger both needed to vent their anger and frustration with each other, so Sam and I made sure that we gave them a bit of space as we wandered down the long driveway leading out to Rockfield Road.

“Well, that was an interesting turn of events this morning,” Sam smirked. “I certainly wasn’t expecting to be scolded by the Sheffield brothers!”

“You know,” I replied with a shake of my head, “I think this is going to be one of those situations where the more I think about it, the madder it’s going to make me.”

“I don’t know,” Sam laughed. “I’m already pretty pissed off over the whole thing. I mean, how dare they threaten to keep us from going on tour with our guys?! I’d just like to see them try!”

“They think they’ve got the upper hand,” I said. “But they’re going to have a rude awakening one of these days. There’s no way that the guys are going to put up with this crap much longer.”

The town of Monmouth was just a little over a mile down the road, and with the weather being sunny and mild and perfect for walking, it wasn’t long before we reached it. It occurred to me once we’d arrived that I needed to buy some postage stamps so that I could begin the grueling process of making out wedding invitations and mailing them out, so Sam and I found the town’s local post office, while Brian and Roger found a small pub to sit down and have a quick beer or two. I was glad to see that the town boasted more pubs than just the Green Dragon, since I was pretty sure that we’d all been banned from that particular establishment for life.

Sam and I left the post office a short time later with two large rolls of stamps in hand, and my tongue felt sore just looking at the amount of dry, nasty glue that I was going to have to lick on the back of each one. I was in the process of shoving the stamps into my purse, when Sam elbowed me in the side.

“Carrie, look!” she exclaimed as we wandered down the street a short way. “They have a bridal shop in this town! Have you picked out your wedding dress yet?”

“You know, I haven’t,” I confessed. “With Brian being sick and then this trip to Wales, I haven’t even had a chance to go shopping.”

“Well then, now is the perfect opportunity!” Sam said, linking her arm through mine and dragging me off in the direction of the shop.

“Should we tell the guys where we’re at?” I questioned.

“Nah, they’ll know that we couldn’t have gone too far in this tiny town,” Sam replied. “Besides, if you do find a dress, you can’t have Brian seeing it anyway.”

I supposed that she had a point, though I doubted that I would find anything that I liked in such a small hole-in-the-wall shop, especially after I’d seen nothing at all that tickled my fancy either in California or in any of the numerous photographs and bridal magazine clippings that both my mom and Brian’s mom had sent me over the last year or so. The problem was that all the modern day wedding gowns seemed to lack the pizzazz that wedding dresses from the past seemed to possess. Most of them were high-necked and very plain in design with either too little in the way of ruffles and lace, or so many ruffles that they were ugly and gaudy. I wanted something more delicate and feminine that I could call uniquely my own, and I just couldn’t seem to find it. 

The sound of a small tinkling shop bell greeted Sam and me as we entered through the old weather beaten front door of the establishment. There were several mannequins clad in a variety of wedding dresses to greet us as we walked inside, but it didn’t take long to realize that these were just more of the same kinds of dresses that I’d already seen every place else I’d looked – high-necked and relatively plain without much in the way of style.

“This one is nice!” Sam said enthusiastically, as she walked across the small shop and ran a hand over the long puffed sleeve of one of the dresses.

As high-necked dresses went, it was better than most, with a lace inset at the top of the bodice and ruffles trailing down the front in a v-shaped pattern. It still didn’t seem quite right somehow though.

“May I help you, ladies?” a middle-aged woman with blonde hair piled high on top of her head asked us as she wandered our way from the back of the shop.

“Yes!” Sam exclaimed, grabbing hold of both of my shoulders and spinning me around to face the shopkeeper. “My friend here is getting married soon, and she’s looking for a wedding gown.”

“Congratulations!” the woman smiled. “When is the big day?”

“August 24th,” I replied, feeling a little embarrassed by the fuss that this woman and Sam were making over me. Being a bride, and therefore being the center of attention, was something I was going to have to get used to I supposed.

“Oh my goodness!” the woman trilled. “We’ve got no time to lose then! What kind of dress are you looking for?”

“Well…” I began, looking over the various mannequins one more time. “I’m not really sure. I’m not a big fan of all these high-necked wedding gowns though.”

“Oh, but they’re very popular!” the woman practically sang. “Princess Anne was married in a dress very similar to this one over here.”

The woman led Sam and me across the shop and showed us the plainest, whitest, ugliest, wedding dress I’d ever seen. I thought back to when I’d watched Princess Anne’s wedding on television the year before, and the woman was right, it certainly did look quite a bit like the gown she’d worn, which made me wonder, if the royal family was so loaded with cash, why in God’s name couldn’t they have gotten poor Anne a prettier dress?

“Um, yeah, that’s not quite what I’m looking for,” I said as politely as I could.

“Well,” the woman went on, sounding only slightly dismayed, “we did just get this one in over here, which doesn’t have the high neck, and is quite lovely.”

She led us over to the corner of the shop where gowns were crammed onto a metal rack hanging single file. I wasn’t expecting much after the selection I’d seen so far, but when the woman pulled the dress out, it was as if the heavens sang and beams of light shone down upon it.

“It’s beautiful!” I gasped. “It looks Regency!”

“Yes, you’re quite right,” the woman preened. “It does have a very early 19th century feel to it, but still retains a modern look.”

“It’s perfect…” I sighed, taking the dress from the woman’s hands.

The gown was delicate and feminine, just like I’d wanted, with short, sheer, puffed sleeves, an empire waistline that was trimmed with lavender satin ribbon, and two rows of floral lace that trailed from the bodice all the way down to the floor. I’d never seen another dress that looked anything remotely like it, and I fell in love with it immediately.

“Even the color is right!” I gushed. “My wedding colors are white and lavender!"

“And…” the lady went on, brandishing yet another dress from the rack, “there are matching bridesmaids gowns to go with it.”

The bridesmaid’s gown was almost as beautiful as the wedding dress, with lavender satin for the base, a sheer white chiffon overlay with tiny lavender floral sprigs on top, and rows of floral trim criss-crossing over the empire waistline and along the bottom of the dress’s fluttery sleeves.

“Oh my God,” Sam breathed. “That’s so pretty!”

“Oh, and I nearly forgot, there are matching hats as well,” the lady said cheerfully, reaching up onto a shelf to pull down an adorable floppy lavender hat with the same floral trim gracing the edge of the brim.

“This is it, Carrie, these are the dresses!” Sam exclaimed. “If I have to pay for a bridesmaid’s dress, please pick something as pretty as that!”

“How much are the dresses?” I asked a little timidly, almost afraid to hear the prices.

“The wedding gown is £80, and the bridesmaid’s dress is £20,” the lady replied.

I quickly leafed through all the magazine clippings that my mom has sent me, or shown me whenever I’d been in town, and I was pretty sure that the cost was in the ballpark. I knew that £80 was roughly equivalent to $200, and I was sure that there had been a dress that my mom had fallen in love with in one of the magazines that had been at least $300. Since my parents were paying for all of my American wedding, and even a bit of my English wedding, I was sort of at their mercy.

“I need to make a phone call to my parents,” I told the lady. “Is there anyway possible that you could hold these dresses for me for just a little while?”

“Certainly,” the lady answered. “Though I will need a decision by tomorrow whether or not you intend to purchase them, otherwise I’m afraid they’ll be returned to the rack.”

“Yes, that should be fine,” I said excitedly.

“And how many bridesmaid’s gowns will you need in total?” the lady asked.

“Four,” I replied.

“Excellent,” the lady said. “Follow me to the counter.”

I had butterflies in my stomach as the woman took down my name on two separate sheets of paper and pinned them to the front of each dress. I couldn’t believe it. I had picked out my dress – my wedding dress! Suddenly getting married didn’t seem like this far off thing that would eventually happen down the road. It seemed real and tangible. I had wedding invitations that were going to be mailed within days, I had a beautiful gown that everyone was going to watch me walk down the aisle in, and I had bridesmaids that were going to be standing by my side throughout it all, looking lovely in their satin and chiffon. But most importantly, my groom was going to be standing there looking perfect and handsome as we made our vows to one another. My stomach did a flop over the mere thought of it!

By the time Sam and I left the shop I was floating on cloud nine. The two of us were chattering away like little schoolgirls as we made our way down the street toward the pub where we’d left the guys. All we could talk about were the dresses, and what shoes we were going to wear, and how we were going to do our hair, and any other fun girly thing we could think of, when we noticed the guys standing on the sidewalk about twenty yards away looking slightly impatient.

“There you are!” Brian called out in an exasperated voice. “We’ve been looking for you everywhere! We thought you were only going to the post office!”

I practically skipped the rest of the way down the street and threw myself into Brian’s arms when I reached him, nearly knocking him over in the process.

“Oomph!” Brian grunted as I slammed into him. He let out a small laugh then as he clung on to me and said, “What’s all this about?? Everything okay?”

“Everything is perfect!” I exclaimed. “We’re getting married!!”


	81. Chapter 81

“So who are all these people anyway?” Sam asked me, as we sat side by side on one of the black leather couches inside the studio’s control room, going over my lists of people that Brian and I intended to invite to the wedding. I was more than grateful when she’d offered to help me address my mountain of invitations, and gladly handed her a stack of them along with a pen, as we sat poised over the coffee table with the beginning stages of writer’s cramp.

“Mostly Brian’s family,” I replied before licking the edge of a newly addressed envelope. “But there’s a lot of his old friends on the list too. And, as I’m sure you can imagine, as soon as you think of one old friend that you want to invite, then you immediately think of ten others that you _have_ to invite too so that they don’t feel left out, and so on, and so on. We’ve actually narrowed the list down if you can believe it.”

“Are you going to be able to fit everybody into the back garden of that bed  & breakfast you guys are having the ceremony at?” Sam asked me with a skeptical look.

“God, I hope so,” I sighed, pulling another invitation out of the box. “It’s actually the pub across the way where we want to have the reception that I’m more worried about. I suppose we’ll have to have that mostly outside too. Now we just have to pray to God that it doesn’t rain!”

“No kidding! This _is_ England you know,” Sam chuckled before licking yet another envelope shut. “So is everything set with the bridal gown and bridesmaids dresses?” 

“Pretty much,” I replied. “All we have to do is go in for one last fitting after the alterations are done, and then they’re all ours!”

After Sam and I had visited the little bridal shop in Monmouth a week before, I’d immediately called my parents back home to tell them that I’d found the wedding dress of my dreams. Thankfully there was no argument about them wiring me the money, and I went back to the shop the next day to secure the gowns. I had to call Annie and have her come all the way from London for a fitting, since she was to be my maid of honor, and though I apologized profusely for such an inconvenience, Annie waved my concern aside and turned the trip to Wales into an opportunity to stay with some old friends for a few days while we waited for the dresses to be altered. I loved the fact that I could always count on Annie to be there for me when I needed her.

“So, I’ve never asked you, are you going to have any bridesmaids at your American wedding?” Sam asked, as she carefully addressed an envelope to Brian’s aunt and uncle in Leeds. “I noticed you only bought enough dresses for Annie, Mary, Veronica and me.”

“I’d love to ask my friend Jennifer,” I said. “But, since Brian doesn’t have any friends in the States, he wouldn’t have anyone to stand up with him as best man. So, I think it’ll just be the two of us at our American wedding.”

Just then the speakers flipped on inside the control room, as Roger let out a very loud “fuck!” in frustration. Both Sam and I jumped in our seats, because until that moment, the noise that the guys were making in the studio had been nothing more than muted background noise.

“Want to try it again?” Roy asked through the microphone.

“Nah, I think I just need a break,” Roger replied irritably through the PA. Roy nodded in agreement, and flipped the speakers back off.

The guys had been working on a myriad of songs over the week that we’d been in Wales, but hadn’t really gotten much of it fine-tuned yet.

“You know the part after the bridge…” Freddie was saying to Roger as all four guys wandered into the control room. “We need something more there. Something more than just a normal fill.”

“That’s what I was trying to do,” Roger replied with a scowl, “but I just can’t get it the way I want it to sound.”

“If you ask me…” Roy started to say.

“We didn’t ask you, darling,” Freddie interrupted with an impish grin as he flopped himself down onto the other black couch.

“Well, how about I give you my opinion anyway, _princess,”_ Roy went on, flashing Freddie a menacing look. “You lot are trying to get too many ideas down at once. Pick one of the songs and just work on the damn thing. _Killer Queen_ was sounding great the other day. Why don’t we go back to that and finish it up?”

“I’ve got some ideas that I want to work on for _She Makes Me_ too,” Brian added as he pulled up a chair and sat across the table from Sam and me.

“Ideas, ideas, more bloody ideas,” Roy mumbled as he sat back in his chair and rubbed his eyes in frustration.

“Oh, perhaps Roy is right,” Freddie relented with a swish of his hand. “We’ve done enough fooling around this week. We need to pick a song and just work on it. I don’t care which one.”

“I thought we were mainly going to rehearse here, then do the majority of our recording back home at Trident,” Roger said, pulling up a chair next to Brian as he lit up a cigarette.

“Well, that’s what we talked about,” Freddie replied, “but now that we’re here, it seems a shame not to lay down at least a couple of tracks at such a gorgeous new recording studio.”

John simply leaned his back against the wood-paneled wall and nodded as he took a sip of tepid tea from a paper cup.

“I said that from the beginning!” Roger grumbled. “What the hell did we come all the way out to bloody Wales for if it wasn’t to record something?”

“Lord, I think we all just need to take a little break,” Brian said, as he stretched and yawned. “We’ve been going non-stop almost since we got here.”

He leaned over the coffee table then and picked up a stack of invitations that Sam and I had finished addressing.

“And what are you two lovely ladies doing?” he went on with a playful smile. “Still slaving away over these invitations I see?”

“We’re getting close to being done I think,” I smiled back.

“Sorry I haven’t been more of a help with this stuff,” Brian said with a worried frown, setting the invitations back on the table. “Here I brought you all the way out to Wales, and it seems like you’ve been cooped up inside worrying about wedding plans since we’ve been here.”

“I doubt that she minds too much,” Sam grinned at Brian. “Girls tend to enjoy planning their weddings.”

“Still…” Brian shrugged leaning back in his chair with his hands folded behind his head. “I think we all need a break to clear the cobwebs. We need to do something fun.”

“What?!” Freddie teased. “Is that Brian May that I hear, saying that he wants to do something _fun_ for a change?! I don’t believe it! Who are you and what have you done with our guitarist?”

“Ha ha, very funny,” Brian replied caustically. “You know, you lot forget that I’ve been cooped up myself for a while now with this damn hepatitis.”

“Very true darling,” Freddie sympathized. “We haven’t had any good old-fashioned fun in a while, have we? So what do you suggest?”

“Actually, I’d like to make a suggestion,” Roger chimed in. “Sam and I were just talking the other day about how she misses celebrating the 4th of July back in America.”

“And?” Freddie prompted when it seemed as though Roger had finished making his point. “The 4th is in two days, dear, and we can hardly go to America and celebrate.”

“No, but we could have our own celebration, here,” Roger smiled. “You know, do things up American style. We could barbeque, have a few drinks, light a few fireworks on fire, that sort of thing.”

“Where on earth are you going to find fireworks this time of year?” Brian questioned. “Guy Fawkes Night isn’t until November.”

“I think I know a fella…” Roy interrupted, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “He’s up in Liverpool, but I could drive up and back tomorrow. He’s always got fun shit like fireworks. And not the pathetic kind that you hand a five-year-old on Guy Fawkes Night either, I’m talking the good stuff.”

“That settles it then,” Roger said with a decisive grin. “You get the fireworks, we’ll worry about the food and drinks, and we’ll have a huge party to celebrate Yankee independence.”

The plan was immediately agreed upon by everyone, and instantly thoughts started flowing about what we would eat and drink, who could be invited out to Rockfield to party with us, etc., etc. Sam and I were both a little surprised and amused that Roger would come up with the idea of commemorating American independence from the very country that we now called home, and gave each other a slightly bemused glance, both of us wondering whether or not the locals would share Roger’s enthusiasm for a celebration of the British Isles losing their beloved colonies. I had a feeling that we might be getting some very strange looks in two days time, especially from the Ward family.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

The next couple of days were spent busily preparing for our 4th of July celebrations, with everyone running off in what felt like ten different directions to obtain everything that we needed. Roy had gone off to Liverpool as promised for the fireworks, taking John Harris along with him for moral support, while Roger, Sam, Freddie and Mike Stone traipsed around the Welsh countryside in search of enough booze to get a small army intoxicated, leaving Brian and me in charge of getting the food. It took several trips to nearby grocery stores for the two of us to find anything even remotely resembling true American 4th of July fare. In the end, we managed to scrape up some hamburger meat and buns for burgers and a package of sausages labeled “frankfurters” that I hoped would be close to American hot dogs. I also found everything that I needed for macaroni and potato salad, and at Sam’s request, I had gotten all of the ingredients for a couple of apple pies, which she promised to make the morning of the 4th. By the time we added in snacks and condiments, it looked as though we had enough food to feed half the town of Monmouth.

I called Annie up to let her know that we were planning to throw a party, since she was still in Wales, and invited her and the friends she was staying with to come out to Rockfield and join us. She was thrilled by the prospect, and volunteered to bring chips and dip and anything else edible that she could think of. I was starting to worry that I might not be able to squeeze into my wedding dress after eating all the food we were going to have!

Nonetheless, by the afternoon of the 4th, all of the food was prepared other than the burgers and hot dogs, which we planned to toss on the grill later. As far as the weather went, we couldn’t have asked for anything better. The Welsh skies were bright and clear as we all pitched in to set everything up outside, the warm sun kissing our bare skin as everyone wandered around in shorts, t-shirts and tank tops, or in the case of a few of us girls who had dreams of getting a tan, bikini tops. It was glorious, and for a moment, I could have almost imagined that it really was a true American 4th of July back home on a mild California summer day.

There was no time to bask in the sun for too long, however, since there was so much to be done. We picked a lovely grassy spot near a small pond on the Ward’s property to have our day of fun, and soon the guys were carrying out tables and chairs and blankets to lay out on the grass as the girls and I hauled the food out from the kitchen one armload at a time. Roger and Freddie decided that we needed some music, and wrangled their faithful engineer, Mike, into setting up an entire stereo system outdoors. Long electrical cords snaked across the grass from an outlet housed inside a nearby barn to one of the Ward family’s hi-fi consoles, replete with large blaring speakers, which I was sure the neighbors were absolutely going to love. Roger and Freddie seemed to be completely unconcerned about the possibility of disturbing the neighbors, however, and were soon bringing armloads of records out to the stereo system. It wasn’t long before the strains of Jimi Hendrix could be heard throughout the farm.

Meanwhile, Kingsley and Charles Ward had hauled an enormous oblong outdoor grill into the fray, which they filled with charcoal and wood and lit, sending plumes of thick black smoke rising high into the air. The smell was heavenly, like a roaring campfire on a crisp summer night. I breathed in deeply and smiled contentedly to myself before heading back toward the kitchen to see if there was more food to be brought out. On my way, I spotted Brian and John heading toward me, each of them holding one end of the ping-pong table from the common room as they dragged it across the property to where our party was being held. I couldn’t help but laugh under my breath as the two of them struggled to keep the cumbersome item steady while trying to avoid divots in the ground all at the same time.

“What’s that for?” I called out, shielding the sun from my eyes with the back of my hand. “Are we going to play ping-pong out here?”

“Roger said Sam told him about some table tennis drinking game that you Americans play,” Brian explained. “So John and I were commissioned with fetching the table and dragging it out here.”

“Ah, beer-pong!” I exclaimed. “The frat guys at Stanford played it all the time! Sounds fun!”

I smacked Brian’s ass as I walked past him, and instantly heard a thud as his end of the table hit the ground. I looked back over my shoulder and laughed as Brian struggled to regain his grip on the table, shaking his head at me with a playful gleam in his eye all the while. How was I supposed to resist when he was wearing nothing but short white shorts and a tight fitting t-shirt for God’s sake?

Soon everything was completely set up and ready to go. The food was all laid out, the music was still blaring, and most of the guys had congregated around the grill attempting to cook the burgers and hot dogs while the other girls and I just laughed at several of their failed attempts, all while chatting and drinking. And it wasn’t long before we had other people showing up to help us celebrate as well. Annie arrived with three friends in tow named Darren, Emma and Victoria, and then much to everyone’s surprise, Freddie’s old Ibex buddies Mick and Tupp also showed up. Apparently John Harris had seen them in Liverpool the day before and invited them over. I hadn’t seen Mick since the night in my flat so long ago when I’d been forced to swap spit with him in the kissing game, but he looked much the same, still boisterous and scruffy and looking as though he was up for anything that involved a good time. Tupp I’d never met, but I certainly knew his reputation as a major pot-head. He definitely fit the image of a classic stoner with long, shaggy, light brown hair, ripped denim cut-off shorts and a slightly dopey-looking smile on his face. With the addition of Mick and Tupp at our party, I was worried that everyone might just have a little _too_ much fun.

Things were relatively tame early on in the day, with everyone eating and joking around, and taking turns playing beer pong. Lisa Ward, the teenage daughter of Charles Ward, wandered out at some point, bringing a Frisbee with her, and soon everyone was engrossed in a Frisbee death match, with Roger nearly taking a header into the nearby pond as he dove for a wild throw. Eventually as the day wore on, though, and people continued to consume more and more alcohol (not to mention much harder alcohol), the signs of wild drunkenness were beginning to appear. Freddie was singing _Don’t Let The Sun Go Down On Me_ at the top of his lungs when somebody put Elton John’s new album _Caribou_ on the turntable. Ironically, it was precisely when the sun _was_ going down for the night. Mike Stone, I noticed, was off in slightly secluded corner chatting up Charles Ward’s teenage daughter, Lisa, who was decidedly underage, yet drinking right along with the best of us. Considering that he was at least ten years her senior, I doubted that that could lead to anything good. I was chatting with Annie and her friends Emma and Victoria, when they informed me that the guy that they’d brought along with them, Darren, had been asked by Tupp if he wanted to go smoke a joint. When I turned to look around me, I realized that Darren and Tupp were nowhere to be seen.

“Oh boy,” I drawled, taking a sip of my third juice and rum cocktail. “Things are going to get interesting tonight, aren’t they?”

I was starting to feel a little loopy myself, when Sam waved me over to the table where she and Mary and Veronica were sitting, each nursing a cocktail of their own. I made my excuses to Annie and her friends, and meandered over, plopping myself down next to Sam. She held a finger up to her lips in an effort to tell me to be quiet, then motioned her thumb over her shoulder toward where Brian, Roger, Deaky and John Harris were playing what I thought was another game of beer-pong.

“You’re not going to believe the shit coming out of the guy’s mouths right now,” Sam leaned in and whispered to me. “Clearly the Southern Comfort that they’re drinking has loosened their tongues, and they don’t realize that we can hear them.”

“Southern Comfort?” I whispered back. “I thought they were just drinking beer.”

Sam shook her head and said, “Roger developed a liking for Southern Comfort when the guys played in New Orleans, so they decided to pour that into the cups instead.”

“Shh, listen!” Mary quietly admonished.

“You’re so full of shit!” Roger slurred loudly, staring at John Harris with a slight look of awe. “You didn’t do three girls in one night in Cheltenham! You would have told us the next morning if you had!”

“I swear to God!” Harris slurred back, aiming for one of the plastic cups on the other end of the table with the ping-pong ball he was holding. “It really happened. You didn’t know cause I was busy hauling your damned equipment on to the next show the following morning.”

“Why the fuck would three girls want to sleep with you and not us?!” Roger demanded. “We’re the ones in the fucking band for God’s sake!”

“Probably cause I’m better looking than you,” Harris goaded, landing the ball in one of the cups. “Ha ha! You get to drink another shot!”

“Better looking than me…” Roger mumbled, downing the cup of Southern Comfort in one shot. “You _wish_ you were better looking than me!”

“What are you four girls chatting about?” Freddie asked, looking slightly bleary eyed, as he wandered up to the guys with a glass of champagne dangling from his hand. Apparently he’d gotten bored singing along with Elton.

“Just about all the crap that happened on our last British tour,” Brian replied, as he too aimed for a plastic cup at the other end of the table.

“Harris says he did three girls on the night we were in Cheltenham,” Roger explained.

“Well, this shouldn’t shock you, darling,” Freddie drawled. “I seem to recall you leaving with four girls after an Imperial College gig a few years ago.”

“Yeah, that was a good night,” Roger smiled, looking dreamily into the night sky. “God I miss those days. Those girls fulfilled a lot of my girl-on-girl fantasies that night.”

“Oh, shut up!” Brian scoffed. “That did not happen! Who’s full of shit now?”

“It did too happen!” Roger argued. “I took all four girls back to my flat that night. I was making out with two of them at one point while the other two were making out with each other.”

Brian just shook his head at Roger disbelievingly, while Deaky landed a ping-pong ball in one of the cups, forcing Brian to drink down another shot.

“I think Brian is just jealous,” Freddie smirked. “I think maybe he’d like to experience a little girl-on-girl action himself.”

“Wouldn’t every guy?” Brian replied, stifling a hiccup as he set his empty cup back down.

Sam and I looked at each other slightly agog, both of our minds clearly racing a mile a minute. I couldn’t decide which was worse, the fact that Roger had had sex with four girls in the very bed that I’d lost my virginity in, or that my fiancé was harboring secret lesbian fantasies!

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Sam asked me, quirking an eyebrow my way.

“Oh my God, you two have to do it!” Mary exclaimed. “The looks on their faces would be priceless!”

“Wait, do what?” I asked innocently. I was starting to worry that my mind and Sam’s mind were in two very different places.

“Just watch…” Sam whispered, then leaned back and shouted out to the guys, “Hey Rog! Bri! I hear you guys are interested in some girl-on-girl action?”

She definitely had their attention, and before I knew what was happening, Sam turned and planted a full kiss on my lips! My eyes flew open in complete shock as every muscle in my body tensed up.

“Just play along,” Sam whispered, pulling back momentarily. I did as she asked and tried to relax a little as she kissed me again, this time with more passion.

Holy shit! _I’m kissing a girl!!_ My brain screamed. And not just any girl, it was Sam for God’s sake! It felt very strange to feel soft, supple lips covered in lipstick touching my own, and it wasn’t something that I thought I’d care to repeat. When we pulled apart and looked at the guys’ faces though, it was all worth it. All five guys were frozen around the ping-pong table, watching our every move. Brian and Roger seemed to be in some sort of a trance, staring at Sam and me with their mouths hanging open slightly.

Roger dropped the ping-pong ball he’d been holding, and said, “Sorry fellas, I’ve got to go!”

Brian swallowed hard and said, “Er, yeah, me too.”

They both started eagerly heading our way, when Roy and Mick came bounding into our midst, arms laden with pyrotechnics, calling out, “Who’s ready for fireworks??”

“What, _now?”_ Brian whined, as he reached for my hand and Roger for Sam’s, both of them nearly dragging us off the wooden bench we were sitting on.

“Of course! It’s dark isn’t it?” Roy argued. He set the fireworks down then held up something in a small box that I didn’t recognize. He shook it slightly and went on excitedly, “Look what else I found! A video of some naughty European film called _The Seduction of Inga!_ The Wards have one of those new video tape player things in he common room! Anyone up for a movie after the fireworks??”

“Naughty you say?” Freddie questioned, snatching the video out of Roy’s hand. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

Reluctantly, Brian and Roger put aside whatever romantic plans they’d had for Sam and me, at least for the time being, while everyone gathered around to watch the fireworks. Roy had certainly outdone himself. He and Mick lit up a wide array of explosives, each one shooting high into the air and bursting into a colorful rainbow of sparks that cascaded gently to the ground. I was sure that such fireworks had to be illegal, but I was getting pretty drunk by that point, and found that I didn’t care quite as much about the police suddenly showing up as I might have normally.

Brian, I could tell, was still feeling pretty amorous after witnessing my kiss with Sam, as he cuddled a little closer to me than usual, wrapping one arm snuggly around me as his other hand brushed across my legs and arms, occasionally “accidentally” grazing the side of my breast. I could feel him watching me as I watched the fireworks, and when I turned to glance his way, his eyebrows waggled at me over his bleary, drunken eyes. He looked so sleepy-eyed and sexy that I couldn’t possibly resist leaning in to give him a deep, passionate kiss, which, of course led to another, then another, until we were laying back on the grass pretty much making out. Roger and Sam, I noticed out of the corner or my eye, were doing much the same. Soon it was announced that the fireworks were done and that it was time to head into the common room where we would learn all about Inga and how and why she’d been seduced. Probably not the best choice of movies, I decided, considering we already had a couple of seriously horny guys on our hands.

Nevertheless, everyone pitched in, dragging all the food and drinks back up to the house, and soon everyone had a cocktail or beer or glass of wine in their hands again, as we all sat around the TV, draped across couches and chairs and the floor to watch the miraculous new device known as a video cassette player do its thing.

Brian and I were snuggled up on the couch, much as we were outside on the lawn, when the movie started up. The opening scenes showed a pretty brunette girl, whom we soon discovered was Inga, getting out of bed and heading into the shower. The camera panned upward, starting at Inga’s feet, and soon her rounded buttocks and small perky breasts came into view, much to the delight of every man in the room, as we voyeuristically watched her washing herself. The theme song of the movie began, and I started laughing until I had tears running down my face, as the lyrics were comprised of only one word – “Inga” – repeated over and over in long drawn out breaths to a heavy guitar track. I found the characters, the over-dubbed accents and the plotline in general to be more comical than sexy, but about fifteen minutes into the film a scene flashed onto the screen of two women kissing and groping one another for the amusement of a room full of people, and suddenly Brian let out this low guttural groan next to my ear, as he began kissing his way down my neck. I glanced around the room and found that several other people were already in various states of making out. Roger and Sam were sprawled out on the floor, kissing like there was no tomorrow, John and Veronica were off in a corner somewhere behind us doing much the same, and Mike Stone was wandering out of the room with his arm wrapped tightly around young Lisa Ward. Somewhere nearby, Tupp lit up another joint, which he was passing around the room between himself, Mick and John Harris, all of whom couldn’t seem to decide what was more entertaining, watching the movie, or watching the members of Queen getting busy with their respective girlfriends. The sweet pungent smoke filled my already drunken senses, and I could feel my grasp on reality beginning to slip as Brian pushed me back onto the couch, kissing me and reaching up to cup one of my breasts. Thoughts of wild orgies and sex crazed Europeans swirled around in my head as Brian and I plunged our tongues into each other’s mouths, more or less oblivious to everything and everyone else around us. Somewhere in the deep recesses of my brain I remember thinking that I hoped that I wouldn’t do anything too stupid in front of our friends, and that was the last thing I remembered…


	82. Chapter 82

I cracked my eyes open a tiny bit and instantly regretted it. There was light shining down upon me from a nearby window that was making my head hurt worse than it already did. My mouth felt like Death Valley and my stomach was in knots. I groaned and reached up to grab my head and realized that I didn’t have a shirt on. I knew that I had something on, though, because I could feel it squeezing my ribs. I blinked a couple of times, shifted my hand to block the sun from my eyes, and looked down to take stock of what I was wearing. All I had on was my bra and my shorts.

I looked around me and realized that I was still on the couch that I’d been on the night before in the common room. The scene around me looked like a cross between a war zone and a hippy commune, with food, dirty dishes, empty bottles and human bodies strewn everywhere. From my vantage point on the couch I could see Annie and all of her friends along with Mick, Tupp and John Harris spread out across the floor. I was aware of voices and movement around the room, but my brain was slow to process who was talking and what was being said. I was pretty sure that I could also hear the sounds of someone retching nearby. All I knew for sure was that I had never felt so hung over in my entire life.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” the voice of someone standing over me said. “I thought you might be looking for this. I found it on the floor this morning.”

I swiped at my eyes with the backs of my hands, and looked up to see Deaky standing next to the couch, brandishing the t-shirt I’d been wearing the night before.

“Oh Lord... Um, thanks,” I managed to croak out, reaching out to take the shirt. John just smiled weakly and walked away. I knew it should have bothered me more that I was half naked in front of him, but I felt like crap, and if I was being honest with myself, I was actually pretty happy to be wearing anything at all as crazy as things had gotten the night before.

I slowly sat up and the room started to spin.

“All right, darling?” Freddie asked, flopping onto the couch next to me. My stomach did a somersault as he jolted my body, and I found myself wondering how he could possibly be so perky after he’d had so much to drink the night before.

“Not really,” I grumbled, hoisting my shirt over my head.

“You know, I believe that’s your better half that I hear praying to the porcelain God,” Freddie said.

This instantly perked me up. I looked around the room and realized that I couldn’t see Brian anywhere.

“Is he okay?” I asked in a worried voice, trying to extricate myself from the couch as quickly as I could.

“I’m not sure, dear. You’ll have to go check up on him yourself,” Freddie replied.

I stood up, steadied myself, and valiantly wended my way through the myriad of people on the floor, praying that I wouldn’t trip and fall. I made it to the bathroom in one piece and found Brian bent over the toilet looking sickly and pale. He was wearing nothing but his shorts from the night before, and I could see sweat beading on his skin as he tried to catch his breath.

“Babe, are you okay?” I asked.

“No,” he answered, still hanging his head over the toilet. “Please don’t ever let me drink that much again.”

“I promise not to let you drink that much if you promise not to let me drink that much,” I said.

“Deal,” he replied, and immediately started vomiting again.

I stayed with him until he was done, even though the sight of him being sick was threatening to make me sick as well. Somehow I held it together though, and once Brian was ready to leave the bathroom, we wandered out into the common room to find his shirt, say a few shaky “good mornings” to those who were up and about, and then meandered outside into the courtyard, heading for our room and nice cozy bed.

When we got to our room, though, something didn’t seem quite right. There were empty glasses sitting on our coffee table that we were sure we hadn’t left there, and clothes that didn’t look familiar scattered across the back of our couch. Brian trudged to the couch and picked up a shirt that we both recognized as belonging to Roger, and then we just stared at each other for a moment as it dawned on both of us simultaneously that we could hear snoring coming from upstairs.

“No,” Brian scowled. “Please, God, tell me he didn’t…”

Brian made for the stairs with me following right behind him, and sure enough, there was Roger, snoring away in our bed, with Sam right next to him. From what we could see, it looked as though neither of them were wearing any clothes.

“Roger,” Brian said irritably, reaching out to shake his friend. “Roger!” he said again, only louder, when Roger didn’t respond the first time.

“What, Mum?” Roger mumbled, stirring slightly. “I’ll get up in a minute.”

“I am not your mother, thank you very much,” Brian replied in a snarky tone. “But if you would be so kind, I would appreciate it if you’d get the _hell_ out of my bed!”

“What?” Roger choked out, wiping the hair out of his eyes to look up at us. “What are you talking about? This is my bed. Why the hell would I be in your bed?”

“That is what I would like to know,” Brian answered, folding his arms across his chest.

Roger lifted his head, squinting his eyes at his surroundings. “You sure this is your room? I could have sworn that Sam and I went to our room last night…”

“Yes, Roger, this is my room,” Brian said as patiently as possible. “See that shirt over there?” he asked, pointing across the room to a white button-down-the-front shirt hanging on the front of our armoire, “That’s my shirt. See all the make up and perfume on the vanity?” Brian went on, pointing to the other side of the bed where a small vanity table sat against the wall. “That’s Carrie’s make up and perfume. Satisfied?”

“Ugh, shit…” Roger groaned, dropping his head back against Brian’s pillow. “How much did I drink last night?”

“Enough to make you confuse my room with yours apparently,” said Brian. “Now would you kindly leave? I’ve already been throwing up this morning. I’m not feeling well.”

“Yeah, sure, sorry mate…” Roger mumbled, tossing the covers off of himself to reveal that he was, in fact, completely naked.

“Oh God, hang on,” Brian said. “Let me go down and get your clothes.”

“Thanks man,” Roger yawned. “Oh, um, you should probably know, Sam and I had sex in your bed.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Brian griped, turning to glare at Roger as he made his way to the staircase.

“Sorry,” Roger shrugged, trying not to smirk and failing miserably. 

“Remind me to kill you later,” Brian grumbled as he headed down the stairs.

I just shook my head at Roger and said, “You might want to wake Sam up,” before following Brian down the stairs.

No sooner did we get downstairs than a knock sounded at our door.

“Oh, what now?” I mumbled, heading toward the door to answer it as Brian gathered up all of Roger and Sam’s clothes. I was surprised to see Charles Ward standing on the other side.

“Good morning, sorry to bother you,” he said with a smile that seemed entirely too cheerful to my hung over state of mind. “There’s a phone call up at the house for a Carrie Martin from Monmouth Bridal.”

“Oh?” I asked. “Oh. Oh, don’t tell me they want me to go pick up the dresses today…”

Charles Ward just sort of shrugged helplessly at me, and I told him I’d go to the house and take the call. As I left, I could hear Brian asking him if we could get some clean sheets for our bed - the sooner the better.

Sure enough, the bridal shop informed me that my wedding gown, along with all of the bride’s maids dresses, were altered and ready to be tried on. Of all the days they could have picked! They just had to call me when not only I, but every single one of my bride’s maids as well, was completely hung over and feeling like death warmed over.

It took me a little while, but eventually I managed to wrangle up all of my bride’s maids and got them showered and dressed. Brian took pity on all of us, and asked John Harris to drive us into Monmouth in his van so that we wouldn’t have to walk. We must have looked a sight when the five of us girls wandered into the bridal shop with red, swollen eyes, looking as though we were about to drop. Thankfully the lady working behind the counter didn’t say anything about our disheveled state, and simply brought out the gowns for us to try on. 

The alterations had been a success, and each dress fit its owner like a glove. As Sam, Annie, Mary, Veronica and I gazed at ourselves in the shop’s full-length mirror, we couldn’t help but smile and preen a little as the reality of my forthcoming wedding helped to snap us out of our comatose states. I had never owned such a beautiful dress in all of my life, and it was hard to believe that it was really me looking back at myself in the mirror. It was a far, _far_ cry from my usual t-shirt and jeans, and I hoped with all my heart that I would take Brian’s breath away on the day of our wedding.

When we got back to Rockfield I bid adieu to Annie, whose friends were anxious to get back home, and was surprised to find the guys in the studio working on their album. I was also surprised to discover that Brian had been throwing up again after I’d left for the bridal shop. He still looked pale, even though he told me that he’d eaten a bit of breakfast, and I couldn’t help but worry that perhaps his Hepatitis might be flaring up again. It hadn’t been that long, after all, since he’d been laid up in bed completely unable to keep anything down. I kept a close eye on him the rest of the afternoon as the guys worked tirelessly on Freddie’s song _Killer Queen,_ and he seemed to do a little better as the day wore on. 

Over the next couple of days the guys were able to finish up most of Freddie’s song, along with Brian’s song _She Makes Me,_ which he’d written for me while I was in the States. The song meant so much to me, and I desperately wanted to be in the studio when it was being recorded, but life, it seemed, had other plans. 

I walked into Monmouth on the day they were working on the song to mail out my wedding invitations, since I’d been too hung over to remember to do it the day before when I’d picked up my wedding dress, and my intention was to go directly into the studio when I got back so that I could listen to what the guys were doing. No sooner did I walk through the door of the control room, however, than I was told that I had a call from my mother waiting for me in the house. I’d forgotten that I’d given her the number to Rockfield in case of any emergencies, and apparently her idea of an emergency was calling to ask if I’d gotten the money she wired me all right, if I’d picked up my wedding dress, if it fit okay, if I’d mailed out my wedding invitations, and about 1000 other questions regarding the upcoming weddings. By the time I got off the phone two hours later, it was clear that my mom was more nervous about my pending nuptials than I was! Unfortunately, when I finally made it back into the studio, the guys had pretty much quit for the day.

I could tell that something was bothering Brian when we all sat down as a group later that night for dinner in the dining room, and I soon determined that he wasn’t happy with the ending of _She Makes Me._ Apparently he’d had it in his head for quite some time that he wanted the ending of the song to fade out with the sounds of sirens and things that he’d recorded in America, and even though that’s what they’d worked on that very afternoon, he wasn’t satisfied with the way it sounded. It still needed something more.

“Here we bloody well go…” Roger griped over his roast beef and potatoes. He pointed his fork in Brian’s direction and said, “You know, you’re an absolute nightmare to work with sometimes. Not everything has to meet with your standards of perfection.”

“Oh, don’t be so ridiculous,” Brian chided, picking at his dinner as though he didn’t have much of an appetite. “I’m not trying to make the song _perfect,_ I’m just not happy with the ending, that’s all.”

He shoved his plate across the table and asked if I minded if he took his telescope out to one of the nearby fields to relax and think for a bit.

“Of course not,” I said, swallowing a bite of broccoli. “I’ll come out and join you when I’m done here if you want.”

Brian nodded in reply, dropped a kiss on the top of my head, and left the dining room.

“I swear to God, I don’t know how you put up with his moodiness sometimes,” Roger said to me, shaking his head, as he stabbed at another potato on his plate.

“It’s called unconditional love, Roger,” I replied, deciding that I’d eaten enough after all, as I got up from the table and left the room.

I found Brian hauling the antique telescope I’d gotten him two years before out of our room, and joined him as we walked across the Ward’s vast property until we found a nice, quiet, dark grassy spot where Brian could star gaze for a while. 

I sat quietly and watched as Brian set everything up just so, and before long he turned to me with a smile and asked, “Want to look at Jupiter?”

“Wow, you found it already?” I asked, picking myself up off of the ground.

“It’s visible early at night this time of year,” Brian answered. He pointed to what I thought looked like nothing more than a bright star low on the horizon, and said, “See, that’s it right there.”

I peeked into the eyepiece of the telescope, and was amazed by how close and clear Jupiter suddenly looked. I was expecting to see nothing more than a bright blurry blob, really, but Brian was able to focus the telescope so that we could see the dark red and whitish rings spanning the circumference of the planet. I was truly impressed.

“That’s amazing!” I said, smiling up at Brian as I pulled away from the telescope.

Brian nodded and smiled and told me, “Jupiter’s always been one of my favorite things to study in the night sky. It’s lucky we’re able to see it actually, because it’ll be passing behind the sun soon.”

I sat back down on the grass, smiling to myself as I watched him look through the telescope once again. His intelligence never ceased to amaze me. I counted myself as being a relatively smart person, but Brian’s comprehension of things was sometimes on a whole other level. I supposed that was why he drove his band mates crazy with his perfectionism at times. He always had everything worked out just how he wanted it in that vast brain of his, but trying to see his vision to fruition, and getting others to see it as he saw it, had to be frustrating at times.

“So, what’s bothering you so much with the ending of _She Makes Me?”_ I asked him as I picked at a piece of grass.

“I don’t know,” Brian sighed, pulling away from the telescope. He must have felt the need to vent some of his frustrations on the subject, because to my surprise, he left his telescope and came over to sit next to me on the grass instead. “There’s just something missing. I can’t quite put my finger on it. I wanted the end of the song to feel sort of, intense I guess. That’s why I brought those tapes along that I recorded in the States. I thought the sounds of wailing sirens and things would give it the kind of energy I wanted. So we put that in, and had it fade into these fantastic drum fills of Roger’s, but, it just doesn’t sound quite like I want it to in my head, you know? I know you probably think I’m being ridiculous. I know the fellas do. They say it sounds fine.”

“Of course I don’t think you’re being ridiculous,” I laughed. “It’s your song. You’re allowed final say as to what it sounds like, right?”

“Yeah,” Brian agreed somewhat grudgingly, as he chewed on a fingernail thoughtfully. “I just wish I could figure out what it needs. It needs another passionate, intense sort of sound, but nothing that I’ve got recorded feels right.”

“Could I listen to it?” I asked. “Maybe another set of ears would be helpful.”

“Would you?” Brian asked hopefully. “I sort of thought you would have been in the studio today to hear it. I was surprised when you weren’t.”

“Oh… Don’t get me started,” I grumbled, rolling my eyes. “My mom called.”

“Ah, say no more…” Brian said, holding up a quelling hand. He knew my mom well enough by now to know how long-winded she could get.

Brian folded up his telescope and we carried it back to our room before heading into the studio. The control room was dark and quiet when we entered, with no one else inside. It seemed so different from the noise and chaos that usually filled the room during the day.

Brian flicked on the lights, shut the door, and motioned me toward the chair at the mixing desk that Mike Stone usually sat in, while he took Roy’s chair.

“The tape should still be on the reels,” Brian said, flipping a couple of switches on the mixing desk until the wheels on the playback machine were spinning backwards. 

He hit another couple of buttons, and soon I could hear Brian having a conversation with Roger about the tempo of the song through the speakers.

“This was just before we added the last bits in,” he explained to me.

“I thought this was supposed to be a love song!” Roger complained on the tape. “I don’t know why the hell you want me to play what feels like a war march. Sounds like a bunch of bloody storm troopers in stilettos if you ask me!”

Brian let out a small laugh on the tape, and in the control room at the same time. On the tape I could hear him tell Roger, “Just play it!” and to me he said, “That was actually sort of a clever analogy on Roger’s part. I may use that.”

Soon the song started up with lots of acoustic guitar and a very slow but heavy beat. I could see what Roger had been talking about. Then Brian’s warm, beautiful voice came soaring out of the speakers, giving me goose bumps, as he sang the opening line, _“I love, she makes me…”_

I listened intently all through the entire song, and eventually it came to the end where Brian’s voice trailed off and the sounds of sirens faded in, still accompanied by the pounding rhythm of Brian’s guitar and Roger’s drums. I could sort of see what Brian was referring to when the sirens finally faded out and were replaced with what sounded like feedback from Brian’s guitar and Roger’s rolling drum fills. It did kind of seem like the sounds had simply jumped from one thing to another, and the contrast seemed a little stark. I was in complete agreement with Brian that the song felt like it needed a little something extra. 

Beyond that, however, I also couldn’t shake the overall feeling that I had just listened to something very, very sexy. When Brian had first played the song for me on his 6-string acoustic back at our flat, it seemed like it was going to be a relatively typical slow love song, but as far as I was concerned, it had turned out to be anything but. I wasn’t sure what it was really. I didn’t know if it was the slow, sensual way that Brian had sung the lyrics, or if it was the pounding beat that almost reminded me of a person’s heart beating. Or, perhaps it didn’t remind me of a heart beating at all, maybe it reminded me of the rhythm of slow, passionate lovemaking. Whatever it was, something about the song had definitely turned me on.

“Whew!” I breathed, as Brian flipped a switch and stopped the tape.

“Whew?” Brian grinned. “That wasn’t the reaction I was expecting.”

“That song is hot,” I declared. “It’s got sex written all over it!”

“You think?” Brian asked. He sort of shrugged and nodded thoughtfully as he added, “I _was_ sort of having those kinds of thoughts when I wrote it.”

“It shows,” I laughed. “Maybe it needs something sexy at the end. You recorded those sirens in New York, right? Maybe it needs a hot, steamy, sex in the city kind of vibe.”

Brian quirked an eyebrow at me and asked, “And just what do you suggest?”

“I don’t know,” I shrugged, scooting my chair closer to his in order to run a finger playfully up his leg. “What are some sounds associated with sex? Panting, moaning, heavy breathing?”

“Are you suggesting that I moan at the end of this song?” Brian teased, his eyes sparkling mischievously as he leaned in closer to me.

“Maybe some heavy breathing?” I suggested, inching my face closer to his.

“Hmm, I might need some real life inspiration to make it sound authentic,” he sighed, closing the rest of the distance between us to press a soft, warm kiss to my lips.

“I’m sure I could find a way to help you out,” I replied with a crooked grin, as Brian reached out to lift me out of my chair and onto his lap, making me giggle with delight.

He pressed my back against the mixing board as I twined my arms around his neck. “I knew I could count on you to come up with a good idea,” he said in a throaty voice, his eyes beginning to cloud over with desire, as we began kissing passionately, moaning with pleasure into each other’s mouths, our bodies pressed tightly together. He trailed kisses down my neck to the base of my throat as he breathed, “Is this the sort of thing you had in mind?”

“Something along these lines,” I whispered back, as I tangled my fingers in his hair. “Though I think it might take something more than just kissing if you really want the breathing to sound authentic.”

“I think I like where this is going,” Brian replied, coming up for air as he waggled his eyebrows at me seductively. He lifted me off of his lap and set me back onto my chair as he said, “Okay, hang on…”

He flipped a couple of switches on the mixing board, checked a few settings and said, “Right, the tape should be rolling now.”

“You’re recording?” I asked, as Brian leapt up from his chair with newfound energy, and reached out for my hand.

“Yep,” he replied simply as he hoisted me from my seat, pulling me along in his wake through the nearby door that led into the main studio. We wound our way past instruments and equipment until we got to a small, soundproof room that held nothing but a microphone with a set of headphones draped over the top. Brian looked around a little nervously as he shut the door, saying, “There’s not really any furniture in here… I guess I could drag a chair in.”

“I don’t think we’ll need it,” I grinned, reaching up to pull his face down to mine for a long, deep kiss.

I kissed my way down Brian’s neck and chest, slowly unbuttoning each button on his shirt as I went.

“Oh fuck…” he moaned softly, watching my every move with bated breath, as I reached for the button on his pants, all while sliding down onto my knees in front of him. I looked up and gazed into his darkened hazel eyes as he placed the headphones over his ears, his breath already coming out in ragged gasps. He reached down to run his fingers through my long hair as I unzipped his pants, releasing his hard, throbbing cock that was clearly more than ready to come out and play.

I took him into my mouth, a little at a time, just to tease him at first. He made little moaning sounds into the microphone, and I gently reminded him that he was supposed to be breathing heavy and not moaning, as I ran my tongue up the length of his shaft. He let his eyes slowly drift shut, tilting his head back slightly and holding onto the headphones, as he tried to concentrate purely on the physical pleasure I was giving him, since watching me seemed to be causing a little too much of a reaction.

His breathing began to slow down into long deliberate gasps, and it was obvious that he was having difficulty keeping it in check, as I continued sucking and teasing him with my mouth and tongue. The longer his heavy breathing continued, the more I found myself aching to feel him inside of me. He looked so sexy with his shirt wide open, his eyes closed and the headphones smashing down his curly hair. I almost couldn’t handle the desire coursing through my veins. The more I watched him, the more I desperately wanted him.

Brian held it together as long as he could, but as soon as I started taking him all the way into my mouth, he looked back down at me and breathed, “Oh God, baby, yes… Oh fuck…”

He grabbed ahold of my head, burying his fingers in my hair as he guided himself deeper into my mouth. I came up gasping for air, and began licking and teasing him again until I could catch my breath. As soon as I was ready I took him deep inside of me again, making him gasp and moan even louder. I knew his release was coming, and I didn’t want to stop.

I continued moving my mouth over him, longer, deeper, until Brian finally let out a guttural groan, his breath catching in his throat, as he let out one long breathy, “Fuck!” and came in my mouth. It was something that I’d always known that he wanted to do, but I’d never let him before. I was so aroused, though, that I didn’t mind in the least when he shot every last drop onto my tongue before I quickly swallowed it down.

He ran his fingers through his hair, tugging at the headphones tangling in his curls, as he tried to catch his breath. He flashed me a wicked grin as he started to say, “You… _You_ are the sexiest, naughtiest…”

Just then a loud, deadpan voice broke in through the speakers overhead, saying, “Brian, are you finished, or should we keep recording?”

It was Roy.

Brian’s eyes flew to the window in the door behind me, as he tried to focus on who was inside the control room through the big picture window that looked out over the studio.

“Oh, shit…” he muttered, and the sounds of laughter from several people, not just Roy, filled the little room we were in.

I popped up onto my feet again, looking through the window in the door to see who was there, my face already turning a deep shade of red.

“Ah! There’s Carrie! I knew she had to be down there somewhere!” Freddie’s voice trilled, as he gave me a sickeningly sweet smile and wave through the window as the raucous laughter continued. I was mortified to see that not only were Freddie and Roy in the control room, but so was Roger, John, Mike Stone, Harris, Sam, and, oh dear God, even Kingsley Ward!

“I think, um, maybe we’d better finish this back in our room,” Brian mumbled as he quickly zipped up his pants, his cheeks turning a vivid shade of pink. I nodded my agreement, and wished desperately that there were another way out of the studio so that we wouldn’t have to go through the control room. Unfortunately, there wasn’t.

We took our walk of shame through the studio and into the control room to loud cheers and applause from everyone inside.

“I give you The Ducks everyone!” Freddie shouted over the din, motioning to Brian and me with his hands as if we were prizes about to be given away on a game show.

“Never a dull moment with these two, that’s for sure,” Roger added, lighting up a cigarette.

“Damn, I don’t suppose you have a sister, do you?” John Harris asked me.

“She does, but she’s older and already married!” Roger exclaimed, slapping Harris on the back. “Sorry old boy!”

“Damn it!” Harris joked, snapping his fingers in frustration over his loss.

“Yeah, yeah. Okay, we get it,” Brian said, gently shoving me toward the door. “Very funny. Now if you don’t mind, we’ve got some unfinished business in our room...”

“I don’t know, seems like you finished to me, darling!” Freddie exclaimed, immediately followed by more laughter and a high five from Roy.

We were almost out the door when Sam suddenly asked us, “Wait, wait! I have to know! _Why_ were you recording yourselves??”

Brian took a deep breath and said, “We were recording sounds for the end of _She Makes Me,_ okay?”

Clearly it wasn’t okay, because everyone’s facial expressions changed from hysterical merriment one second to utter and complete shock the next.

“Dear God, darling!” Freddie said, completely aghast. “You want to put the sounds of Carrie giving you head on our record?! I mean, I know we occasionally like to shock our fans, but that may be taking things a bit too far!”

“No… Not that… Just… Just the heavy breathing bit!” Brian stuttered. “Look, we’d like to go to our room now if it’s alright with you lot.”

“Yeah, I bet you would,” Deaky quietly quipped, and suddenly everyone was laughing again.

“Don’t mess with that recording!” Brian admonished as the two of us disappeared out the door. We crossed the gravel courtyard in record time, making it to the safety and seclusion of our room in a matter of seconds.

Brian locked the door and leaned his back against it, saying, “Well… That went well.”

I suddenly burst out laughing over the utterly ridiculous situations that we seemed to constantly find ourselves in, and even though Brian seemed at first like he was too embarrassed to make light of it, he eventually cracked and laughed, shaking his head at me as he grabbed me playfully around the waist and said, “Why don’t we finish what we started upstairs. I think maybe it’s my turn to get on my knees for a while.”

“Ooh! Really?” I grinned, as the two of us tickled and played and fumbled with each other all the way up the stairs.

Even though we tried to put the whole episode out of our minds the remainder of the night, Brian and I both had a sneaking suspicion that the guys, and even Sam, were never going to just let something so incriminating drop. Especially when there was recorded evidence.

Sure enough, when we both cracked open our eyes the following morning, we could hear the strains of Brian’s heavy breathing and moaning echoing throughout the courtyard just outside our room. It was obvious that someone had decided to play it for the entire farm over some sort of a speaker system.

“You’ve got to be joking…” Brian groaned. He rubbed his eyes, tossed back the covers and jumped out of bed, slipping into his underwear and shorts before heading downstairs.

I could hear him unlock the door and throw it open, shouting out, “Damn it Roger!”

“Told you we’d get you back!!” I could hear Roger and Sam practically sing out in unison.

I snatched up Brian’s pillow and squashed it over my head, silently thanking God that we’d be heading back home to London the next day.


	83. Chapter 83

Brian and I were more than happy to get home after the chaos of Wales. Between the crazy fans and the partying, the whole thing felt a bit like a wild roller coaster ride, and quite frankly, I was pretty exhausted. The guys had managed to at least get some work done, but the overall feeling when we left was that too much time had been wasted, and that the band was now going to have to buckle down even harder if they wanted to get their third album finished on time.

Queen was booked to go back into Trident Studios on July 15th, and the guys were determined to get down to business and start laying down more tracks right away. And while the guys were busy worrying about their album, I had my own set of worries to keep me occupied. Wedding plans were now at the forefront of my thoughts, because as both my mom and Brian’s mom kept reminding me, we had less than a month and a half until the big day. 

Brian had a week off between Wales and going back into Trident to start recording, so I thought it might be a good time for him to take care of a few things on his end for the wedding before he got bogged down in the studio. He hadn’t had a chance to pick out his tuxedo, for instance, or the tuxedos for his best man and groomsmen, so we thought it might be a good time to get that sorted out.

He had asked his old friend Dave Dilloway if he wouldn’t mind stepping in as one of his groomsmen, so that we would have an even number of both groomsmen and bridesmaids, and the two of them, along with Roger, Freddie and John, met up at a local London tuxedo rental shop one afternoon to pick something out and get fitted.

Brian didn’t want me to go with him, stating that he wanted me to be surprised on our wedding day, and I went along with his request, although it made me extremely nervous. I knew Brian’s fashion sense, and I shuddered to think what he might pick out. In the end, I at least got him to relent a little, and had him ask his mother to accompany him to the tuxedo shop. It wasn’t ideal, since I would still have no say in the matter, but it was a better compromise than nothing at all. At least she knew our wedding colors, and hopefully had decent enough judgment to not let Brian pick out something completely gaudy and covered in ruffles.

“Remember, lavender and white! Those are our colors!” I shouted to Brian one last time as he walked out the door.

“Don’t worry! I’ve got this!” he replied with a nod and a wave as he walked out and shut the door. I supposed I’d find out the verdict of whether he “got it” or not on August 24th…

Within a few days the guys were back at Trident and working on their album. I was there as much as possible, but now that Brian’s mom had gotten a bee in her bonnet about finalizing our wedding plans, it seemed like I was constantly being pulled away for one thing or another. She was right, of course, things did have to be taken care of, but I hated not being in the studio to see Queen’s music coming together.

Between the middle and end of July, it seemed like there was a constant stream of phone calls between me and the bed & breakfast in Hampshire, making sure that all the plans were completely ironed out. And if it wasn’t phone calls from them, then it was phone calls from The Crown in Axford, asking me what kinds of food and drinks we were going to be serving the guests, how many people were going to be there, and where exactly we wanted to put all of these people. Then, of course, I had to keep in contact with my mom regularly as well to see how the plans for our American wedding were coming along. There was just so much to be done! I didn’t know what made me think that we could possibly arrange everything in such a small space of time.

Despite the chaos of wedding planning, I did get to check in on the guys in the studio from time to time to see how things were going. Their music was sounding great, and was really starting to come together, but around the last week of July, I was beginning to get a little worried about Brian’s health. He’d been complaining of stomach pains off and on for about a week, and I noticed that he hadn’t been eating much. There were even a couple days in the studio where he had to take a break and go into the bathroom to throw up, and I was terrified that his hepatitis was flaring up again. He looked thinner and paler to me than usual, and when I told him that I thought he should take it easy, he just waved away my concern, saying that he was fine and he didn’t have time to rest. I tried my best not to worry, but after I’d seen the state of him when I’d come back from America, I couldn’t help myself. The hepatitis he’d had was no laughing matter, and I never wanted to see him that sick again. I tried to keep an eye on him as best I could, but with so many wedding plans to be dealt with, it was difficult. 

One morning in early August while the guys were in the studio, I went out with Brian’s mom to try and get a few last minute things wrapped up. We still hadn’t picked out the floral arrangements or my bouquet, so our first stop was Kensington Flowers to get that taken care of. Trying to decide between roses and lilies and lilacs and pretty much every other flower under the sun was mind numbing and tedious! In the end, Ruth and I decided on classic white roses with accents of lilacs and sprigs of lavender for my bouquet and the floral arrangements at the bed & breakfast, along with more white roses and sprigs of lavender for the men’s boutonnieres. After that, it was off to a party rental shop where we had to pick out tablecloths, napkins, dinnerware, centerpieces, chairs, chair coverings and any other last minute thing we could think of to have delivered to either the bed & breakfast or The Crown on the day of the wedding. I was completely exhausted both physically and mentally by the time we were done.

When Ruth finally dropped me off at the studio, I figured the guys were likely getting close to finishing up for the day, so that Brian and I might just go home and I could take a nice, long bubble bath. When I walked into the control room, however, it was immediately apparent that something was wrong. Nobody was sitting at the mixing desk at all, but the door into the studio was wide open, and I could hear a jumble of panic stricken voices coming from inside.

John suddenly burst through the door, looking almost manic, spotted me and said, “Thank God you’re here!”

“What’s going on?” I asked with a worried frown.

“It’s Brian,” John replied. “He’s collapsed. You’d better come quick.”

I bolted past John into the studio, and saw to my complete and utter horror that Brian was sprawled out on the floor looking deathly white. Roy and Mike Stone were standing nearby, looking completely panic stricken, while Freddie and Roger both knelt down beside Brian, gently shaking him as they tried to wake him up.

“Jesus, what happened?!” I cried, practically throwing myself onto the ground next to Brian.

“He just collapsed a minute ago,” Roger answered in a flustered voice. I realized that he was holding Brian’s red special and that the strap was undone and still lying partially underneath Brian’s back. “We were playing, and he suddenly went down. He hasn’t come around since.”

“Brian? Brian can you hear me?” Freddie asked, sounding completely terrified, as he gently tapped the palm of his hand against the side of Brian’s face. Brian didn’t budge an inch. Freddie looked up at me with large worried eyes and said, “I don’t know what to do.”

“We need to call an ambulance… Somebody call an ambulance!” I shouted to the room at large.

“I’m going right now,” Roy said, and ran out of the studio into the control room where there was a phone hanging on the wall near the mixing desk.

“Brian, baby, can you hear me?” I asked, my hand trembling as I held Brian’s hand in my own, lifting it to my face and realizing that his skin felt cold and clammy. Tears were already forming in my eyes, as I reached up to brush the hair back from his forehead and said, “Brian, you’ve got to wake up sweetie. You’ve got to be okay.”

He was breathing, that much I knew for sure, but other than that he seemed completely unresponsive.

“What happened?” I asked Roger again. “What led up to this? Was he feeling okay?”

“He was throwing up a lot today,” Roger replied, looking ashen faced at his friend’s limp body. “He must have gone into the toilet at least three or four times. We kept telling him to go home, but he wouldn’t listen, and you weren’t here…”

“Of all the stupid days to be out wedding shopping!” I said through gritted teeth, wanting to kick myself for not being around when Brian needed me.

“They’re on their way!” Roy exclaimed, dashing back into the studio.

Brian slowly started to come around as we waited for the ambulance. He seemed weak and confused though, unable to remember what had happened. At least he was awake and alive though, I told myself. Thank God he was alive!

By the time the paramedics arrived, Brian was sitting up a little, asking in a shaky voice what had happened to him. We explained to him that he’d collapsed, and told the paramedics about the vomiting and stomach pain he’d been experiencing. They wasted no time in strapping him to a gurney, and Brian seemed genuinely confused as to why so much fuss had to be made.

“Baby, you’re not well,” I told him, standing beside him and holding his hand after the medics had hoisted the gurney up into position. “You were throwing up today and you passed out. You’ve got to go to the hospital and find out what’s wrong.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing…” Brian protested weakly.

“We’ll let the doctors be the judge of that, okay?” I replied, trying to be as strong as I possibly could for him, even though I was a quivering mess on the inside.

When the paramedics realized that I was Brian’s fiancé, they ushered me out to the ambulance with him, telling me that I could ride in the back so that I would be by his side all the way to the hospital. 

“Where are they taking him?” Roger asked me as I climbed into the back of the ambulance. He, along with everyone else from the studio, had trailed after me as they wheeled Brian outside into the warm early evening air.

One of the paramedics had clearly heard Roger’s question and replied, “King’s College Hospital.”

“We’ll meet you there, okay?” Roger said, reaching out to briefly grasp my hand. He gave me a heartfelt look and said, “He’s going to be okay, all right?”

The look of concern in Roger’s eyes did nothing but make me even more emotional, and a fresh round of tears filled my eyes as I just nodded my agreement.

I gave everyone one last look as they closed the ambulance doors, and soon we were speeding through the streets of London, sirens wailing.

It didn’t take long before we were pulling up in front of Kings College Hospital, and the irony was not lost on me. Of all the hospitals in London, they’d taken us to the very place where I’d first seen Queen play live over two years before. So much had happened since that night…

They rolled Brian’s gurney into the ER with me trotting along beside them trying to keep up. A doctor came wandering out into the hallway asking for Brian’s status. The paramedics quickly filled him in on everything that had happened, but they were talking so quickly, and with such strong English accents, that I could barely figure out what was being said.

“Are you his wife?” the doctor turned to me and asked.

“Fiancé,” I replied.

“Right, okay. Let me show you to the waiting room,” said the doctor. “We’re going to have to run some tests, and we’ll come and get you once we know more.”

“Oh, okay,” I said a little hesitantly. I really didn’t want to leave Brian’s side. I looked to Brian and squeezed his hand one last time, saying, “I’ll see you in a bit, okay?”

“Okay,” Brian nodded.

“I love you!” I managed to get out before they wheeled Brian off in one direction, and led me off in another to a cold, sterile waiting room.

I couldn’t sit down. I was so worried about Brian that I paced the floor, still angry with myself for not being in the studio that afternoon. How could I have let this happen? What if this was something serious? I chastised myself mentally. What if something was really wrong with him and I’d been too busy to even pay attention.

“Fuck!” I exclaimed as quietly as I could, throwing my purse onto a chair and then flopping myself down onto the chair next to it. I received an angry stare from a mother with a young child over my choice of language, and propped my elbows on my knees, dropping my head into my hands so I wouldn’t have to look at them.

“There she is!” I heard a familiar voice say a few minutes later.

I looked up to see, Freddie, Roger, John, Roy and Mike heading my way.

“We got here as quickly as we could,” Freddie said, sitting down next to me as everyone else took a seat nearby as well. “How is he?”

“Still weak and a little confused,” I answered. “But he’s conscious at least. They’re running some tests right now to see what’s going on with him.”

Freddie reached out to squeeze my hand, and I instantly felt tears stinging in the back of my eyes.

“I’m just so damned mad at myself!” I exclaimed, pounding my fist on the arm of my chair. “If only I’d been at the studio today!”

“You listen to me right now,” Freddie admonished. “I forbid you to blame yourself for anything! Even if you had been at the studio, you couldn’t have prevented this. And Brian needs you to be strong right now.”

“I know… I know…” I said, reaching up to swipe at a tear. “I’m just so scared.”

“We all are,” Roger said, reaching out to rub my knee reassuringly.

“Here, I thought you might need these,” John suddenly said. I looked up to find him standing over me with a wad of tissues in his hand, which he’d clearly obtained from the nearby nurse’s station.

“Thank you John,” I smiled weakly, taking the tissues and wiping my tear-stained face.

“Have you called Brian’s mum and dad yet?” Roger asked me.

“No! Oh God, of course, I need to call them…” I said, shaking my head over my thoughtlessness.

“It’s fine, darling,” Freddie said reassuringly, giving my hand another squeeze. “Why don’t you go and call them, and I’ll call Mary to let her know what’s happened.”

“Yeah, and I need to call Sam as well,” Roger added.

There were a couple of pay phones in the waiting room, so we wandered over to make use of them. Brian’s mom had just barely gotten home when I called. It was Brian’s dad, Harold, whom I spoke with, and I could tell that he was forcing himself to remain calm as I explained what had happened. Ruth’s voice rang out in the background, sounding completely panic-stricken, as she demanded to know what was wrong. I told Harold that they’d taken Brian to Kings College Hospital, and he instantly said that they were on their way.

Slowly but surely everyone began showing up in the ER. First Sam, then Veronica and Mary, and then, about half an hour after I’d called them, Brian’s parents finally arrived.

“How is he?” Ruth asked me, racing over to give me a warm embrace.

“I don’t know,” I answered, fighting back tears. “I’m still waiting to hear from the doctor.”

About twenty minutes or so later the doctor finally came wandering into the waiting room, clutching a folder filled with papers.

“Family of Brian May?” he asked, looking down at the name on the folder.

“That’s us,” I said, immediately crossing the room to talk to him, with Harold and Ruth following right behind me.

“We examined Brian and ran some tests,” the doctor began, “and we’ve discovered that he has a duodenal ulcer.”

“What is a duodenal ulcer?” I asked.

“Well, it’s an ulcer in a part of the intestine called the duodenum, which sits right below the stomach,” the doctor explained. He pulled a graph of the human digestive system out of Brian’s chart as he explained, showing me the part of the intestines he was referring to. “The ulcer is generally caused by an infection, and sometimes these things can be severe, and sometimes they can be quite mild. In Brian’s case, unfortunately, the ulcer has perforated the wall of the duodenum, which means that food and stomach acid have been leaking into his abdominal cavity, causing him quite a lot of pain and discomfort. This is also why he’s been vomiting. He told me that he recently had hepatitis as well, is this true?”

“Yes,” I replied, trying to let all of the information that I was being given sink into my brain.

“The fact that his immune system was already weakened by that may have exacerbated the situation,” the doctor said.

“So, what needs to be done?” Ruth asked the doctor from over my shoulder.

“We’re prepping him now for surgery,” the doctor replied.

“Surgery?!” I exclaimed.

“Yes, I’m afraid so. This is not something that will simply go away on it’s own. And if we don’t go in and fix the problem, then he will continue to become more and more ill, and it could even lead to death.”

“Oh my God…” I breathed, lifting a shaky hand to cover my mouth.

“Look, he’s going to be just fine,” the doctor said, reaching out to give me a tepid pat on the shoulder. “It’s quite lucky, in fact, that we discovered the problem when we did. The most difficult part now will be his recovery time. He’s likely going to have to stay in hospital for at least a month.”

“A month?!” I cried, beginning to feel as though I might faint. “We’re supposed to be getting married on the 24th!”

“And we’ve got a tour of America next month!” Roger added. I hadn’t realized that he, along with everyone else, was standing right behind me listening in.

“It will all have to be postponed, I’m afraid,” the doctor replied in a somber tone. “You must understand, this is not just a simple procedure. We’re going to have to cut open his entire abdomen in order to remove the ulcer. He’s going to have quite a scar when we’re finished, and he’s going to be in a significant amount of pain for a while.”

“When can I see him?” I quietly asked, feeling like I was starting to sway a little.

“The surgery should take about an hour or so,” the doctor answered, “and then once we have him settled in a room, we’ll come and find you. Though, I’m afraid we can’t have all of you going in at once.”

“No, of course not,” Ruth said, reaching out to squeeze my shoulders. “Carrie will go in first, then his father and me, and then we’ll see if he’s up to having any other visitors.”

“Excellent,” the doctor replied. “I’m going to go scrub in, and I’ll see all of you once the surgery is finished.”

I watched the doctor leave the waiting room, my stomach in knots, and immediately said, “I think I’m going to be sick…”

I rushed to a nearby bathroom and threw up what little food was left in my stomach from breakfast that morning.

“Oh my God, sweetie, are you okay?” Sam asked in a calming voice, gently pushing open the door of the stall where I was bent over the toilet.

“No,” I cried, my entire body shaking as I said, “He’s in there all alone right now, probably scared and in pain, and I can’t do a damn thing for him.”

“He’s going to be all right,” Sam soothed, rubbing my back for moral support. “It sounds like he’s in excellent hands.”

I pulled a length of toilet paper off of the roll, wiped my face off with it and flushed it down the toilet, straightening up to turn toward Sam.

“Come on,” Sam said, leading me out of the stall by the shoulders. “Get washed up, and let’s go get you a cup of tea or something.”

I was worried about being very far from the waiting room area, in case there was any news, but I knew that Brian’s surgery was going to take a little while, so I allowed Sam to drag me off in the direction of the hospital’s cafeteria. I had to admit, a cup of tea did sound warm and comforting somehow.

We wandered back to the waiting room, steaming paper cups in hand, and just sat, waiting for what seemed like forever for the doctor to come back in with some good news. Finally, after about an hour and a half of waiting on pins and needles, the doctor walked through the door, tugging his surgery mask off of his face as he spotted us and nodded.

I instantly bolted from my seat and crossed the room, asking, “Is he okay? Did everything go okay?”

Harold and Ruth were right behind me, with everyone else following behind them.

“He’s fine,” the doctor replied. “The surgery went well. We removed the ulcer without any complications, and he’s resting now in the recovery room.”

“When can I see him?” I asked.

“If you like, I can let one of you come into the recovery room to stay with him until we get him his own room,” the doctor said.

“There you are love,” Harold smiled at me, giving me a quick pat on the shoulder. “Go and make sure he’s all right, and give him our love until we can go in and see him.”

I nodded, and immediately followed the doctor to the door. As I was leaving, I could hear Harold telling Ruth, “Well, Mum, your son couldn’t have found someone who loves him more if he’d tried.”

I vaguely heard Ruth respond as I walked out the door. The myriad of hallways seemed to take forever to traverse, but finally, the doctor led me into a room filled with at least a dozen beds. It was stark and white and sterile inside, and made me feel depressed, as I looked at all the sickly people surrounding me. But just ahead, in the second to last bed on the right, I could see a shock of dark curls peeking out over the white linens of Brian’s bed.

“He’s just over here,” the doctor said, leading me to a bedside chair.

Brian was sleeping soundly and breathing quietly through his mouth. Just the sight of him breathing made my heart squeeze inside my chest, so thankful that he was alive. He looked frighteningly pale though. The color of his face practically blended in with the white sheets surrounding him. And the sight of needles and IVs sticking out of the back of his hand sent my heart into the pit of my stomach.

“Did he lose a lot of blood?” I asked the doctor quietly. “He seems so pale.”

“He did lose a bit of blood,” the doctor acknowledged. “Though not enough to require a transfusion. His color will come back as he recovers.”

I just nodded in reply.

“Well, I’m afraid I need to go check up on other patients. Please, sit down though,” the doctor said, motioning toward the chair next to Brian’s bed. “A nurse should be coming ‘round shortly to check up on him.”

I did as I was told and sat down as I watched the doctor walk away. I turned my attention back to Brian, and reached up to wipe the hair back from his forehead. He looked so helpless lying there. I didn’t want to cry, I wanted to be strong for him, but I couldn’t help it. I just loved him so much, that it was causing me physical pain to see him it such a state.

“Good evening!” a female voice that was entirely too cheerful suddenly said, breaking me out of my train of thought. I looked up to find a bubbly, brunette nurse approaching Brian’s bed. She smiled at me and asked, “How are you doing tonight?”

“I’ve been better,” I confessed.

“Oh, yes, I should think so,” she sympathized. “Are you his wife?”

“Very soon to be,” I replied with a weak smile.

“Well, congratulations,” she grinned. She reached out for Brian’s left hand, the one that the needle was connected to, and said, “I’m just going to make sure that his IV is working properly.”

She lifted his hand, tapped at the tube attached to the needle, then checked the settings on the drip itself.

“Yes, everything seems to be fine,” she declared. “He needs to wake up, though, and come out of his sedation. He’s going to be groggy for a bit mind you.”

I just nodded and watched quietly as she gently nudged Brian’s shoulder.

“Mr. May… Mr. May…” she said sweetly.

Brian let out a slight groan, and then his eyes slowly fluttered open. His brows drew together in a scowl, and I could tell by his expression that he was in pain.

“Time to wake up, Mr. May,” the nurse went on. “Your surgery is all finished.”

“Am I alive?” Brian mumbled.

“Yes, dear, you’re alive,” the nurse smiled. She looked at me and said, “I’m just going to go get something for his pain. I’ll be back in a minute.”

I just nodded as she left, then looked to Brian, and reached out to hold his right hand.

“Hey, you’re here,” Brian said weakly, giving me the best smile he could muster.

“Of course I’m here,” I smiled back, swiping at a stray tear that fell unbidden down my cheek. “Do you think I’d be anywhere else but right here by your side?”

“I don’t know,” Brian said, squeezing my hand feebly. “Once they told me that I needed surgery, I wasn’t sure if I was ever going to see you again.”

“Shh, don’t you dare talk like that,” I admonished. “I would never let anything happen to you. And neither would all of people out in the waiting room who are just waiting to hear that you’re okay.”

“Who’s here?” Brian asked.

“Your mom and dad, of course, and Freddie, Roger, John, Sam, Mary, Veronica, Roy and Mike,” I answered counting everyone off in my head to make sure I didn’t leave anyone out. “So, you see, you’re very loved. Nobody is letting you go anywhere.”

“What exactly happened?” Brian asked. “I remember feeling ill at the studio, and then it seems like the next thing I knew, I was being whisked here in an ambulance and being told that I was going to be cut open.”

“Well, Roger told me you’d been throwing up again,” I began, “then you collapsed in the studio. Luckily I got back from shopping with your mom right after it happened. We couldn’t wake you up, so we called the paramedics. The doctors ran some tests on you and discovered that you had what’s called a duodenal ulcer that had punctured the lining of your intestines. They had no choice but to take you in for emergency surgery.”

“My God…” Brian sighed. “I can’t believe all this is happening. Did they tell you when I can go home?”

“Sweetie, it’s going to be a while,” I said, rubbing the back of his hand with my thumb. “The doctor told me that you’re going to be in the hospital for about a month.”

“A month?!” Brian exclaimed, then instantly regretted it, wincing with pain as he tried to catch his breath.

“Shh, stay still…” I soothed, reaching up to smooth his hair back. “There’s no use in getting upset about it.”

“Our wedding,” he groaned. “The tour. The album…”

“It can all wait,” I said. “Your health is more important to me than any of those things right now. I can’t exactly marry someone who’s not well enough to walk down the aisle.”

“I bet the fellas are pissed off at me,” Brian said irritably.

“The fellas are as concerned about you as I am,” I stated flatly. “They’re out in the waiting room worried sick about you. They know this isn’t your fault.”

Brian still seemed unconvinced though when the bubbly nurse came meandering back over to his bed.

“Here we are…” she said in a sing-song voice, brandishing a lethal looking syringe. “I’m going to put an injection of morphine into your IV to help with the pain.” She looked to me as she shot the contents of the syringe into Brian’s IV tube. “This is going to make him a bit groggy. We’ll move him to his own room soon, though, so that he can be more comfortable.”

She wandered off again, and it didn’t take long for the medicine to take effect.

“Oh God… I feel light-headed…” Brian mumbled.

I brushed his hair back and dropped a kiss on his forehead.

“Just rest sweetie,” I whispered.

No sooner had I said it, than he was fast asleep.


	84. Chapter 84

“So, how are you feeling today, son?” Harold asked.

“A little better I think,” Brian replied.

It had been a week since Brian had been admitted into the hospital, and he was just beginning to feel well enough to have a few more visitors. His parents, of course, came to see him almost daily, and although Freddie, Roger and John checked in frequently, they rarely stayed for very long, and always left when they could see that Brian’s energy was starting to wane. Brian seemed to look a little more chipper though, I noticed, as we sat and visited with his mom and dad.

“And how’s the incision doing?” Ruth asked.

“It’s healing a little at a time,” Brian said, lifting his hospital gown up so that we could see his stomach.

I winced every time that I looked at the massive gash across his abdomen, which stretched from his diaphragm all the way down to the top of his navel. It horrified me to think about his body being so brutally cut open and exposed to the outside world. Thank God that the surgeons had known what they were doing.

“Well, I’m glad to see that you’re doing a little better today,” Ruth smiled. “Unfortunately, I do have something that we need to discuss…”

Ruth lifted her handbag from the floor and set it on her lap, reaching inside and pulling out a stack of what I instantly recognized as RVSP cards for what was supposed to be my upcoming wedding with Brian.

She laid them across the end of Brian’s bed and continued on, “We’ve been checking your post like you asked us to every time we go over to feed your cat, and this is just the latest assortment, I’m afraid. There are plenty more at home. I think I’ve counted as least 25 RSVPs so far.”

I let out a small sigh, partly from the sadness that I felt over knowing that I wouldn’t be able to get married when I’d originally hoped to, but mostly because I was just completely exhausted. I’d been at the hospital for a solid week, staying by Brian’s side to make sure that he was okay. I’d only managed to change my clothes twice during that week, and only because Sam had been thoughtful enough to run to our flat with Roger to pick up a few of my things. I hadn’t showered, I’d barely had time to eat or even brush my teeth, and I’d been sleeping every night on a hard, uncomfortable chair that unfolded into a bed of sorts. The nurses had at least been kind enough to bring me a pillow and a couple of blankets. And now the thought of having to deal with changes to our wedding was almost too much to handle, though I knew it had to be done.

“I’m not really sure what to do at this point,” I said with a heavy heart. I looked to Brian and asked, “Do you feel up to talking about all this?”

“If the two of you could just pick some new dates,” Ruth added helpfully, “then I would be happy to call the printers and have them make up some new cards to send out to everyone with a change of date. All of the plans would stay the same, we would just need to let the guests, the florist, the venues, and anyone else know as soon as possible that the date of the wedding has been changed.”

“I’m sorry to have to put you through so much work, mum…” Brian sighed.

“Oh, nonsense,” Ruth went on, waving away Brian’s concern. “I’m more than happy to do it.”

She reached back into her purse and pulled out a small date planner and began flipping through the pages.

“I don’t think we can count on you being completely well until at least the end of September…” Ruth began, skipping ahead to the month of October. “What do you say about the 5th of October? Then you can fly to America just as planned and have your second wedding on the 12th of October.”

Brian and I gave each other a thoughtful nod.

“I think that would work okay,” Brian said. “The fellas were telling me that there are plans now for a British tour starting at the end of October, so we would need a little time to rehearse, but I think the 5th and 12th of October would be all right.”

“Carrie, you’re the bride to be, my dear, what do you say?” Ruth asked.

“October is actually my favorite month of the year,” I answered. “I love autumn. Will the leaves be changing around that time?”

“They should be right in the prime of all their lovely colors,” Harold said.

“Then it sounds perfect,” I said, giving Brian a small smile.

“Excellent,” Ruth grinned, penciling our new wedding dates into her calendar. “I’m going to go straight home and phone the bed & breakfast and pub and make sure that the 5th of October will still work. Once I’ve got that sorted, I’ll stop by the printers and have them put a rush on those change of date cards.”

“Thank you for all of your help with this, Ruth,” I said sincerely. “I don’t know how I could have managed any of this without you.”

“We’re going to be family soon, love, and this is just what mothers do,” Ruth smiled, as she reached across the end of Brian’s bed to briefly grasp my hand. “You’ve got your hands plenty full trying to get Brian well again, so I’m happy to do it.”

Soon the nurse was bringing in Brian’s lunch, and Harold and Ruth decided to go so that he could eat in peace. I realized that I was getting pretty hungry myself, and decided to leave Brian just long enough to run to the hospital’s cafeteria so that I might get some lunch as well.

As I made my way back to Brian’s room with a sandwich and Coke in hand, I was surprised to hear Brian telling someone, “Aw, you didn’t have to do this!”

I walked in to find Roger, Freddie and John gathered around Brian’s bed as Brian looked excitedly at some sort of box in his lap.

“Hey guys!” I smiled. “How long have you been here? I’ve only been gone about ten minutes.”

“We just got here,” Roger replied. “We figured Brian was starting to get bored lying in this hospital bed day after day, so we brought him a present.”

I looked more closely at the box in Brian’s lap, and realized that the guys had gotten him something called a Magnavox Odyssey.

“What is it?” I asked with a puzzled expression, sitting down in my usual chair next to Brian’s bed.

“Remember, I was telling you about this,” Brian grinned. “It’s a game system that you hook up to the telly.”

“You can play games on the TV?” I asked as I unwrapped my sandwich.

“It’s a bit like table tennis,” Roger replied excitedly, directing my attention to a picture on the box of two people sitting in front of a TV holding some sort of box-like contraptions as they looked fondly at a line and three squares on the screen. Roger went on, explaining, “Each player controls the squares on the sides, here, see. You move them up and down with the controllers, and the other square moves from one side of the game to the other, crossing back and forth over the line in the center. You have to try and hit the square that moves from side to side with one of the other squares, so that it goes back over the line to your opponent, like table tennis.”

“Wow!” I exclaimed. “That sounds like fun! I can’t believe you can actually play a game on a TV!”

“It’s brand new technology,” John added. “It just came out last year.”

“Fellas, this is incredible…” Brian began, as he looked adoringly at the pictures on the box, “but I know this must have cost you a small fortune.”

“Oh darling, don’t worry about the cost!” Freddie said, dismissing Brian’s concern with a wave of his hand. “The three of us pooled our money together for it, and even Roy and Mike chipped in.”

“I don’t know what to say…” Brian said with a shake of his head.

“Say you like it!” Freddie grinned.

“I love it!” Brian laughed, then instantly regretted it, wincing in pain as he clutched at his stomach. He took a deep breath and said, “Don’t make me laugh, guys, it hurts too much.”

“How bad has the pain been, dear?” Freddie asked with a worried frown.

“It’s not that bad as long as I stay very still,” Brian replied. “Any time I move, or even cough or laugh or sneeze, then the pain becomes unbearable.”

“Well, that’s why we thought this game would be perfect,” Roger smiled. “You can lay right here in your bed, someone can hand you the controller, and you never have to move a muscle. We’ll get it hooked up to your TV before we go.”

“I’m truly looking forward to playing it,” Brian said sincerely, then gently shoved the box in Roger’s direction so that he could move it back off of his bed. “So, how have things been going while I’ve been in hospital? How’s the album going? What’s the status of the American tour?”

“The American tour has been completely cancelled,” Roger replied, taking the game box from Brian and setting it on a table underneath the TV. “But, on the bright side, we’ve got another tour of the UK to look forward to.”

“Yeah, but it’s not the same, is it?” Brian asked in a somber tone. “This was going to be our first headlining tour of the States. I suppose there’s loads of disappointed people who paid for tickets?”

“Don’t worry,” Freddie admonished, “they’ll get their money back. And this won’t be our last opportunity of conquering America. We can think of planning another tour of the States when you’re up to it.”

“I guess…” Brian said with a shake of his head. “So what about the album? How’s that going?”

“We’ve been making some progress,” Freddie said cheerfully. “We’ve nearly finished with John’s song _Misfire,_ and Roger’s _Tenement Funster.”_

“What about the guitars on the tracks?” Brian asked with a slight scowl.

“Roy has been brilliant,” Roger gushed. “He’s leaving gaps on all the tracks so that you can come in when you’re well and fill in the guitar bits.”

“I can’t believe that I’m not able to be in the studio with you guys…” Brian said, clearly trying to hold back his emotions. “I’m so sorry that I’m putting you through this. I feel like I’m holding everybody back…”

“You’re not holding anybody back!” Roger exclaimed.

“That’s right, darling,” Freddie added. “You just need to worry about getting better.”

“Why don’t we hook the game system up to the TV?” John suggested, and everyone readily agreed, hoping that it might cheer Brian up.

It took several minutes to unbox the console and controllers and decide which wires went to where. John, however, Queen’s resident electronics wiz, had the whole thing figured out and hooked up in a trice. It didn’t take long then for Brian and Roger to start flipping switches and turning dials and working out exactly how to play the game. I sat and watched, completely mesmerized, as a little square shape bounced around the screen between the two other square shapes on the sides, which were being controlled by Roger and Brian. I’d never seen anything like it, and quite frankly, I couldn’t wait to have a turn myself!

For now though, I was content to let the guys have their fun, hoping that it would keep Brian’s mind from dwelling on anything negative. I should have known that that was too much to hope for though. The guys left about half an hour later, and as the day wore on, I could see the look on Brian’s face becoming more distant and thoughtful.

“What’s bothering you?” I asked at last, looking over at Brian as he just stared at some meaningless news program on TV.

“I’m just thinking about how much everyone must hate me right now,” Brian said soberly.

“Hate you?!” I exclaimed. “Who do you imagine hates you?”

“Our fans, the fellas, you…”

“Me?” I asked, feeling completely and utterly shocked. “Why in the world would you think that I hate you?”

“Because I’ve completely ruined our wedding,” Brian replied, clicking the remote on his bedside table to turn down the volume on his TV. “I saw the look on your face today when my mum took those RSVPs out of her handbag. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be getting ready to walk down the aisle in a little over a week.”

“Honey, it’s not as if I’m _not_ going to be walking down the aisle,” I began as patiently as possible. “We’re still getting married. I don’t mind that we’ve had to postpone it a little.”

“It’s not just the wedding,” Brian went on irritably. “It’s the album and the tour… I just keep seeing the faces of all those disappointed fans in my mind as they find out that all of our shows have been cancelled. These people have paid hard earned money to go see Queen, and now because of me, we can’t deliver. We were just starting to build up a little bit of a buzz in the States after the Mott tour. What if we end up losing fans because of this?”

“Sweetie, if they’re real fans, then they’re going to stick by you no matter what, and they’ll wait until you’re well enough to plan a new tour,” I said.

“Success is a very fleeting thing,” Brian went on. “If you don’t stay in people’s minds, then they’ll forget you. We’re liable to lose all the progress that we’ve made in the States now because of me.”

“Look, maybe this was meant to be,” I said, trying to find any kind of a positive spin that I could. “You were going to go back and promote _Queen II_ again. Maybe it’ll be better if you have a new album to promote the next time you go back.”

“Yeah, well, that’s the other problem, isn’t it?” Brian said bitterly. “God knows when the album is going to be finished. The fellas’ patience with me not being there to work on the tracks is only going to hold out for so long.”

Brian looked down at his lap then, and I was shocked to see tears forming in his eyes.

“I wouldn’t blame them one bit if they wanted to replace me altogether,” he added, his voice threatening to crack as he said it.

“You listen to me right now…” I said, reaching for his hand. “Nobody is going to replace you!”

“Why not?” Brian asked. “There’s a thousand guitarists in London who could step right in and no one would probably ever notice the difference.”

“Brian, please, you have to stop this,” I pleaded with him, reaching up to wipe away a tear as it slid down his cheek. “I know it’s not easy being stuck in a hospital bed like this, and I know it’s making you feel depressed, but you’re never going to get well if you don’t at least _try_ to keep a positive attitude.”

“How am I supposed to stay positive when everyone’s lives are going on without me?!” Brian exclaimed, then immediately regretted it, as pain shot through his stomach.

“All right, enough, I’m sorry…” I mumbled. “I’m not going to have you getting so worked up that you end up hurting yourself. You’ve probably overdone it today as it is. Why don’t you just rest for a while, okay?”

“You sound like a mother having to pacify a small child,” Brian said angrily. “I guess that’s what I’ve been reduced to. I’m just a child for you to have to care for. I wouldn’t be surprised if you wanted to leave me too…”

“Good evening, Mr. May,” one of the nurses said sweetly as she suddenly popped into Brian’s room holding a tray with his dinner. “How are you feeling tonight?”

Brian tore his eyes away from me as he looked to the nurse and quietly mumbled, “I’m fine.”

“That’s good,” the nurse went on cheerfully as she placed the tray on his bedside table and lifted the cover off. “Looks like dinner isn’t too bad tonight. The doctor said you can have a bit of solid food again, so we’ve got roasted chicken and mash with a bowl of jelly for afterwards.”

“It looks very nice, thank you,” Brian replied quietly.

“You’re welcome,” the nurse said before turning to leave. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“I’m going to go get something from the cafeteria,” I told Brian flatly. “Do you need anything before I go?”

“No, I’ll be fine,” Brian answered, wincing in pain as he tried to sit up straighter in his bed.

I nodded and left, feeling completely emotionally drained as I made my way through the hospital’s hallways. I got to the cafeteria and sat down at one of the tables, dropping my head into my hands, as I began to cry. I was exhausted. Completely and utterly exhausted.

I lifted my head, wondering what on earth I was going to do to make Brian realize that everything was going to be okay, when I noticed a pay phone against the far wall straight ahead of me. Brian might not like it, but I knew what I had to do.

I crossed the room, digging a coin out of my pocket as I went, and picked up the receiver. I dropped my coin into the slot, and dialed the number for Roger and Sam’s flat.

“Hello?” Roger answered.

“Oh good, I’m so glad you’re home,” I said.

“Carrie? What’s wrong?” Roger asked.

“Look, I really hate to ask you to do this since I know you were already here at the hospital once today, but is there anyway that you and maybe Freddie, at least, could come back over?”

“Of course, if you need me to,” Roger said. “What’s going on?”

“Brian has got it into his head that everyone hates him, and that you guys are going to replace him in the band,” I replied.

“You can’t be serious…” Roger said exasperatedly.

“Unfortunately, I am,” I said. “I can’t get him to see reason, so I thought that maybe…”

“Look, just hold tight,” Roger interrupted. “I’ll go pick up Freddie, and we’ll be there as soon as possible.”

“Thank you, Rog. I appreciate it,” I said.

I hung up the phone, and debated over whether or not I actually wanted to get something to eat. I was so tired, and so upset, that I wasn’t sure if I could actually stomach any food. Instead, I got a cup of strong tea, and slowly made my way back to Brian’s room.

Brian was still picking at his food when I got back, and I simply sat down in my usual chair without saying a word, hoping that it wouldn’t take Roger and Freddie very long to get there.

Brian said nothing to me as he ate. The two of us just sat in silence, staring at the TV up on the wall as I sipped at my tea. Just as he was finishing up though, a look of shock passed over his countenance, as he glanced at the door of his hospital room and realized that Roger and Freddie were back.

“What are you two doing here again?” Brian asked, turning down the volume on his TV once more.

“Carrie called me,” Roger replied.

Brian shot me an angry glance, then mumbled under his breath, “I can’t believe this…”

“Look, don’t you dare get angry with her,” Roger warned as he pointed a finger my way. “You’re damn lucky that you’ve got someone who cares so much about you! Now, you and Freddie and I are going to have a little chat…”

“I’ll just wait outside,” I said, grabbing up my cup of tea and heading out the door, closing it behind me, as I leaned my back against the wall in the hallway, just outside of Brian’s room.

I couldn’t hear much of what was being said, which I considered to be a good thing. I was hoping that it meant that everyone was remaining calm and hashing things out in a reasonable manner.

After a while, Roger emerged from Brian’s room looking for me.

“Well, how did it go?” I asked.

“Okay, I think,” Roger replied with a slight scowl. “Freddie and I both told him that we would never consider replacing him in the band, and that we had no idea where he’d even get such an idea. We told him that no major decisions are going to be made for the group without him, and that he’ll get a final say on all the music for the album before anything is ever settled on.”

“Good, I hope he listened to you,” I said with a forced smile.

Roger folded his arms across his chest and studied me for a moment before saying, “Do you know that you look like hell?”

“Thanks, Rog,” I grimaced. “You always know how to compliment a lady.”

“Look, I’m sorry, but it’s true,” Roger scowled. “When was the last time you slept or showered or had a proper meal?”

“Before Brian was admitted into the hospital,” I stated flatly.

“Right, that settles it…” Roger said, then popped his head back into Brian’s hospital room. “Freddie, could you come here?”

Freddie did as he was asked, and wandered out into the hallway, closing Brian’s door behind him.

“Is there anyway that you could stay here with Brian tonight?” Roger asked Freddie.

“No, no, I’m fine…” I protested.

“You’re not fine,” Roger replied firmly, holding up a quelling hand. He turned to Freddie and added, “Carrie’s got to get some rest, even if it’s just for one night.”

“You really do look awful, darling,” Freddie told me. “You have dark circles under your eyes, and you look thin. If you’re not careful, you’re going to be the next to be admitted into the hospital.”

“Exactly my point,” Roger agreed. “So what do you say, Fred? Can you stay the night so that Carrie won’t worry?”

“Of course!” Freddie answered. “I’ll just call Mary and let her know.”

I watched as Freddie made his way to the nearby nurse’s station to use their phone.

“Right, let’s go get your handbag and anything else you’ve got here, and you can tell Brian that you’ll see him tomorrow,” Roger commanded.

“Roger, I…”

“Don’t even think about arguing with me,” Roger interrupted. “You’re going home tonight, even if I have to drag you out of here myself.”

“Fine…” I relented.

We made our way back into Brian’s room, where Brian was leaning back against the pillows on his bed, still looking sullen and moody.

“I guess I’m going to go home tonight,” I told Brian quietly.

“What?” Brian asked, flashing me a look filled with sadness.

“She’s not deserting you,” Roger told Brian emphatically. “In case you haven’t noticed, she’s exhausted and needs a shower. I’ll bring her back first thing tomorrow, I promise.”

I watched as Brian looked me over, and I could tell that it was dawning on him for the first time in a week what sad shape I was in. I watched as his expression changed from sadness to concern, and I felt bad for adding to his worries.

“Freddie’s going to stay with you just this one night, okay?” I said, feeling as though I really was deserting him.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Brian said, waving away my concern.

I grabbed my purse off of a nearby table, picked up the paper bag full of my dirty clothes from the floor, and walked over to give Brian a quick kiss goodbye. “I’ll see you tomorrow, all right?”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Brian nodded.

Roger and I passed Freddie on our way out the door and said a quick good bye, as we trudged down the myriad of hallways that it took to reach the outside world.

“Oh, it’s warm out,” I said, realizing that I hadn’t breathed fresh air for an entire week.

The sun was just beginning to set as I climbed into Roger’s car, and we sped off through the streets of London.

I had to admit that it did feel good to be home as I walked through the front door of my flat and set my things on the kitchen table. Harold was excited to see me, and immediately crossed the room to greet me as soon as I walked in. I picked him up to hug him and pet him, as he nuzzled my chin and purred contentedly in my arms. I felt awful over the fact that the only company he’d had during the past week had been from Brian’s mom and dad each day when they came over briefly to feed him. I knew that he had to be lonely, and I made the decision that he should stay with Brian’s parents until Brian was released from the hospital.

Roger went about turning all the lights on, then made his way back over to me to give Harold a quick scratch behind the ears. He looked to me and asked, “Well, what’s it going to be first? Food, or a shower?”

“I am pretty hungry,” I admitted.

“All right…” Roger said, clapping his hands together as he made his way into the kitchen. “What have you lot got around here to eat?”

“Probably not much,” I said, setting the cat back down on the floor as I followed Roger into the kitchen. “I think maybe there’s some cans of soup in the cupboard.”

Roger knew exactly which cupboard I was referring to and reached in to shift a few things around before pulling out a can of chicken noodle soup.

“Excellent,” he said, tossing the can lightly into the air and catching it again. He gave me a quick smile and said, “This should be easy enough for me to make.”

_“You’re_ going to make it?” I questioned.

“Of course,” Roger answered with a slight scowl. “I’m not completely helpless, you know. And anyway, you’re supposed to be getting some rest, so go sit down in front of the telly or something.”

I gave him a dubious look, then waved my hands in surrender as he shooed me out of the kitchen and into the living room.

I sank onto the couch, reveling in the sensation of sitting on something soft and comfortable again. Harold jumped onto my lap as I reached for the remote, turning on the TV and catching an old episode of the American western, _The Virginian,_ just as it was starting on BBC 1. I always found it funny how much the British seemed to love our westerns.

Within a few minutes, Roger came wandering into the living room holding my bowl of soup, trying desperately to keep it steady, as he walked toward the couch.

“He we are,” he proudly proclaimed, setting the bowl on the coffee table directly in front of me. “Not exactly five star dining, but hopefully it’ll do for now.”

“It smells heavenly,” I smiled. “Thanks, Rog.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said, flopping down next to me on the couch. “So what’s on the telly anyway?”

“An old American western called _The Virginian,”_ I answered, leaning over my bowl of soup.

“Old?” Roger questioned. “My mum watches this show. Isn’t there a new episode on every week?”

“Well, they may seem new to you, but I’m pretty sure I watched this episode when it first aired in the States about three years ago,” I said. “I remember the girl falling off her horse and having amnesia.”

“Thanks for spoiling the plot for me,” Roger griped with a teasing grin.

“How did I spoil the plot for you?” I asked in a mocking tone. “You missed the bit at the beginning where she fell off her horse, and clearly she can’t remember anything, so it doesn’t take Sherlock Holmes to figure out that she has amnesia.”

“Yeah, all right, all right,” Roger went on irritably. “Just don’t tell me anything else that happens.”

“Fine, I won’t,” I said, slurping up a spoonful of hot soup. I turned to give Roger a crooked grin and added, “Since when do you like westerns so much anyway?”

“They’re all right,” Roger shrugged. He smirked at me and said, “It’s always interesting to see how you crazy Yanks used to live.”

“Hmm…” I mumbled in reply, quirking an eyebrow in Roger’s direction.

“Seems like old times, this, doesn’t it?” Roger asked as he slouched against the back of the couch, his eyes sparkling mischievously.

“What, you trying to irritate me?” I asked sarcastically.

“Nah, I always do that,” Roger replied dismissively. “I mean us, sitting here, watching TV like we used to back when we were dating.”

“Yeah, I guess it does a bit,” I grinned. “The only difference now is that _you_ actually cooked something for _me_ instead of it being the other way around. You were never this sweet to me back in those days.”

“We were only together six weeks, you didn’t give me a chance to be sweet to you,” Roger said in a serious tone.

I turned slightly to face him, and caught a fleeting glimpse of what seemed like a wounded expression passing across his countenance.

“Roger, you can’t possibly still be bitter after all this time,” I said quietly.

He turned his attention away from the TV to look at me instead. “Bitter?” he asked. “No, I’m not bitter anymore. I came to terms with the fact that you’re going to be with Brian a long time ago. I am glad that we’ve remained close friends though. I realized after you moved in with Brian that it was better to have you in my life as a friend than not have you in my life at all.”

I sort of nodded vaguely and turned my attention back to my bowl of soup, unsure of how to respond. His choice of words struck me as being odd. We’d talked many times over the years about how glad we were to still be friends after everything that had happened between us, but Roger had never phrased it such a way that led me to believe how hurt he would have been had he lost me completely. If I didn’t know better, I might have thought that he still had feelings for me deep down.

I quickly finished up my soup, and told Roger that I was going to go in and take a shower.

I wandered into my bedroom, closing the door most of the way behind me, and stripped off the clothes that I’d been wearing for about two and a half days. I made my way into the bathroom, turning on the shower and waiting until the temperature was just right before climbing inside. The sensation of clean, warm water cascading over my grimy hair, which hadn’t been washed in a week, felt like absolute heaven. I scrubbed my hair and body thoroughly, so happy to be rid of the sweat and hospital stench that I knew had been building up on my skin. I turned off the shower, slid the shower curtain open, and realized that I’d forgotten a towel.

I hung my head in frustration, knowing that I had one of two options. I could either run through my bedroom dripping wet and freezing, trying to get to a towel in the dresser drawer that Brian and I kept them in, or… I could call Roger.

“Rog?” I called out hesitantly.

“Yeah?” I heard him respond from the living room.

“Could you come here?” I asked, wincing slightly as I said it.

I had nothing but my wet head peeking out from the shower curtain as Roger wandered into the bathroom with a crooked grin on his face.

“If you needed me to wash your back, all you had to do was ask,” Roger teased.

“Very funny,” I drawled. “I forgot a towel.”

“So, what you’re saying is that you’re naked and completely at my mercy,” Roger smiled.

“Roger…” I grumbled. “I have water dripping in my eyes if you don’t mind!”

“Yeah, fine,” Roger finally relented. “Are the towels still in the bottom drawer of Brian’s dresser?”

I told him that they were, and he darted out of the bathroom briefly, coming back a moment later with a blue and gold patterned towel in his hand.

“Let me know if you need any help drying off,” he said, waggling his eyebrows at me as I reached out for the towel.

“I think I can manage,” I replied drily.

It had been a very long time since Roger had flirted with me, and I couldn’t help but wonder what had brought on this sudden, brazen attitude. It seemed as though being alone together in my flat had rekindled some old feelings somehow. I found myself wondering if it had been a mistake to let Roger stay.

I dried off and got dressed, donning my old P.E. shorts and a Beatles t-shirt, before quickly drying my hair and making my way back into the living room. Roger was now sitting in the same spot I’d been sitting in on the couch, hovering over yet another bowl of soup.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he said, looking up at me as I walked over to the couch to sit next to him. “I was getting a bit peckish myself and made another can of soup.”

“Of course I don’t mind,” I replied. “You know you’re welcome to whatever we have around here.”

I realized that Roger had taken his shoes off, and looked as though he was settling in for the night.

“You know,” I went on, “you don’t need to stay here and babysit me. I’ll be all right by myself if you want to go.”

“No, no,” Roger said between bites. “I’m staying right here. If I know you, you’ll start worrying about Brian and hop on the tube to get back to the hospital. No, I’m going to make sure that you get a decent night’s rest.”

“Isn’t Sam going to worry when you don’t come home?” I asked.

“She actually just got called away for a modeling job down in Portsmouth yesterday,” Roger replied. “So she’s going to be away for a day or two.”

“Ah, I see,” I nodded. 

Was this why Roger was suddenly coming on to me? I wondered. Sam was in Portsmouth and Brian was in the hospital, neither of us had anyone to answer to at the moment. I knew that I had to tread very carefully. It could easily be a slippery slope from reminiscing about the good old days to getting so caught up in fond memories that they led to other things…

“I really do appreciate you taking care of me like this, Rog,” I said at last.

Roger turned to look at me and shrugged, a slight smile playing around the corners of his mouth. 

“It’s just what friends do,” he said.

I could feel myself getting lost in those big blue eyes of his, and knew that I needed to get out of the room, and fast! The roller coaster ride that I’d been through with Brian during the past week was clearly making me emotional, and it would be far too tempting to turn to Roger for comfort. What I needed was a good night’s sleep to clear my head.

“You know, I think you’re right,” I said, rubbing my eyes. “I need some sleep. Desperately. I’m just going to go ahead and go to bed if you don’t mind.”

“Of course not,” Roger replied. “That’s what I brought you home for. Get a good night’s rest, and I’ll take you back to the hospital whenever you’re ready tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Rog,” I smiled. Then as an afterthought I added, “Oh, and you know where we keep the extra blankets and things, right?”

“Don’t worry about me,” Roger said, waving my concern aside. “I’ll be fine.”

I gave him a quick nod, told him good night, and made my way into my bedroom and my nice comfy bed. I pulled back the covers and snuggled deep inside, then rolled over and looked at Brian’s empty pillow. My heart plummeted as I thought about him lying in that horrible hospital bed across town in pain. I knew that it would benefit both of us for me to get some rest and return to the hospital recharged, but I missed Brian. I hated being away from him for even one night, and being alone in our bed without him just made me want to be back by his side all the more. Roger had probably been right. If he hadn’t stayed with me to watch over me, I might have been tempted to make my way back to King’s College Hospital all on my own. I thought about how lucky I was to have such a good friend in Roger, then instantly drifted off to sleep.


	85. Chapter 85

The next morning I woke up still feeling a little tired and groggy, but better than I had been feeling before getting a decent night’s sleep in my own bed. I felt an arm draped languidly over my side, and a warm body pressed into my back, and with my brain only half awake, I immediately thought it was Brian. In the next second, however, I remembered that Brian was still very much in the hospital. My eyes fluttered open and I looked down at the arm lying over the top of my body. It was shorter and fuller than Brian’s with a healthy crop of light brown hair covering the surface. I knew who the owner of the arm was in an instant.

I turned slowly onto my back and looked to my left, and sure enough, there was Roger, pressed up against me, his blonde hair in disarray around his face as he snored lightly in my ear.

“Roger!” I exclaimed.

He blinked a couple of times, then scowled slightly as he tried to wake up.

“What?” he grumbled, lifting his arm off of me to reach up and rake his fingers through his hair.

“What the hell are you doing in my bed?!” I demanded.

He looked briefly at his surroundings and mumbled, “I don’t know… Wait, yes I do. That damn couch of yours has gotten lumpy or something. I couldn’t sleep out there.”

“So, you just thought you’d climb in bed with me…?” I cried. I glanced down at his body, and of course, he had no shirt on. I could feel the hair on his legs brushing against my own legs, and prayed that he at least had his underwear on. “And pretty much naked too, by the looks of things!”

“It’s not like you haven’t seen me in my unmentionables,” Roger smirked, turning his head to face me. “And besides, we didn’t _do_ anything!”

“Roger, I just woke up to find you spooning with me,” I said flatly.

“Was I?” he grinned. “Sorry. Must be something about old habits dying hard and all that.”

“This isn’t funny!” I exclaimed, and immediately curled up my fists, pummeling Roger on his arms and chest and anyplace else I could reach.

“Okay! Okay!” Roger yelped, holding his arms over his face to block my assault. “Mad woman…”

“You’re going to see a mad woman if you ever get in bed with me again!” I shouted, and instantly reached for the blankets, ripping them off of me so that I could climb out of bed. “Now go in and get dressed, if you don’t mind. I’ve got to get ready to go back to the hospital.”

“Yeah, fine…” Roger grumbled, yanking the blankets off of his body and exposing the wild purple patterned bikini underwear that he had on.

I rolled my eyes and looked away, adding, “And I was hoping that you might take me to a couple shops before we go back to the hospital.”

“Where do you want to go?” Roger asked with a yawn, as he climbed out of bed and stretched his arms up over his head.

“To a bookstore and an art supply shop,” I answered.

“Jesus… You and your bloody bookshops…” Roger muttered, reaching back to scratch his left ass cheek. “What the hell do you want at an art supply shop?”

“I thought I’d pick up some things for Brian to keep him busy, and therefore, hopefully, keep his spirits up while he’s in the hospital,” I said.

Roger nodded his agreement, and said, “That’s probably a good idea, as much for your sanity as his. Can I take a quick shower first though, if we’re going to do all that?”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” I replied. “I need to get a few things together to take with me to the hospital anyway.”

“And I’ll need to borrow one of Brian’s clean shirts,” Roger went on, walking over to Brian’s dresser to get a fresh towel out of the bottom drawer.

“You’re going to walk into my fiancé’s hospital room wearing one of his shirts after you spent the night at our flat with me? Gee, that won’t look suspicious at all…”

“Why, is he worried that you still harbor lustful feelings for me?” Roger smiled up at me as he shut the bottom drawer with a snap. He straightened up then and opened the second drawer from the top, where Brian kept his t-shirts.

“No!” I exclaimed.

“Then we’ve got nothing to worry about,” Roger said, flashing me an impish grin, as he pulled Brian’s black Led Zeppelin t-shirt out of the drawer.

I shook my head in irritation, watching Roger as he sauntered into the bathroom, towel and shirt in hand. He waggled his eyebrows at me, still grinning all the while, before shutting the bathroom door most of the way and blocking my view.

“Pain in the ass…” I grumbled, my arms folded across my chest.

“Right back at ya, old lady!” Roger called out from the bathroom.

I stuck my tongue out at the bathroom door, then made my way over to the bedroom closet to find one of the duffle bags that Brian usually used to take his stage clothes to Queen’s concerts. I packed up a few changes of clothing and my makeup bag, then realized that I needed to go into the bathroom to get my toiletries.

I rolled my eyes and made my way to the bathroom, opening the door slightly, as I peeked inside to make sure that Roger was safely behind the shower curtain. There was so much steam in the room that I could barely see anything at all.

I cleared my throat slightly to announce my presence, and said, “It’s, uh, it’s just me.”

“Who else would it be?” Roger replied sarcastically. “Come in to join me?”

“You know, you’re seriously getting on my last nerve…” I said irritably. “I came in for my hairbrush and toothbrush and stuff.”

“Your loss…” Roger said.

“Is it though?” I asked flippantly, as I gathered my things as quickly as possible. “You forget, I sampled your wares, then decided to take my business elsewhere.”

The shower curtain suddenly slid open part way, with Roger poking his wet head out, saying, “Are you trying to tell me that Brian is a better lover than me?”

“I’m about to marry the guy, aren’t I?” I asked with a crooked grin. “What do you think?”

“I think you’re lying to yourself,” Roger grumbled, pulling his head back into the shower and forcefully shutting the curtain.

“Okay, you go right ahead and think that,” I laughed, walking out of the bathroom with my arms loaded down with deodorant, hair ties, my toothbrush, toothpaste, a hair brush and more.

I dropped everything into the duffle bag, and then dug around in the closet for a cross-stitch kit that I’d picked up in America, tossing that into the bag too, before finally getting dressed. I reached into my dresser and pulled out one of the only clean pairs of jeans that I had left, along with the Queen t-shirt that Brian had sent me the previous Christmas while I’d been in the States. I was running low on clean clothes, and realized that I was somehow going to have to do some laundry soon.

Harold came wandering into the room then, spotted the fact that I was packing, and looked up at me, giving me sad little meow.

I reached down to pick him up, and wrapped him in my arms, giving him a loving hug as I said, “I know sweetie. Mommy’s got to leave again. Daddy’s still in the hospital, remember? I’m going to see if you can stay with Grandma and Grandpa, okay?”

“Really? Mummy, Daddy, Grandma and Grandpa?” Roger smirked, as he wandered out of the bathroom wearing his undies and Brian’s shirt, drying his hair with the towel he’d borrowed as he walked across the room toward me. “You and Brian had better get busy and start having some babies soon before your maternal clock completely explodes.”

“Trust me, I’m more than ready…” I said.

I gathered up Harold’s cage and food and set it all on the kitchen table before calling Brian’s parents. I asked them if they wouldn’t mind watching our little Harold while Brian was still in the hospital, since he seemed to be lonely with no one at home, and they said that they would pick him up later that day after they visited Brian. I thanked them and told them how much I appreciated their help, then said that I would likely see them before long at the hospital.

Soon Roger was dressed and had all of his things together, and I gathered up my duffle bag and purse and was ready to go. I told Harold that I would see him soon and gave him one last cuddle before locking up the flat and heading downstairs into the warm August sunshine outside.

After we’d loaded up Roger’s car with my stuff, our first stop was my favorite bookstore, Dillon’s, near Fitzrovia. Once we were there, I had Roger help me look through the sci-fi novels to see what we could find for Brian. As always, I had no clue when it came to sci-fi authors or subject material, but since Roger and Brian read many of the same books, I was actually glad to have Roger with me so that he could offer advice. In the end, I chose three books for Brian – _Rendezvous with Rama_ by Arthur C. Clarke, _Time Enough for Love_ by Robert A. Heinlein, and _Protector_ by Larry Niven. And since I was still going to be spending lots of time at the hospital as well, I picked out a couple of recent Regency novels by Georgette Heyer for myself called _Charity Girl_ and _Lady of Quality._

After the bookstore we headed over to an art supply shop in Great Russell Street called L. Cornelissen & Son, which proudly proclaimed that they had been in business since 1855. I looked around at various things like paints and canvases, and eventually decided that the least messy of all the various options would be a palette of watercolor paints and a tablet of watercolor paper. I picked those out along with a few different brushes and drawing pencils, paid for my items, and decided that that would be enough to keep Brian busy, at least for a little while.

By the time we got to the hospital, it was already going on 11:00 in the morning, and Freddie looked as though he was fit to be tied when we got to Brian’s room.

“There you are!” Brian exclaimed as Roger and I walked in laden down with my duffle bag and various shopping bags. “I was beginning to think you were never coming back.”

“Oh thank God!” Freddie cried. He looked to me and said, “Darling, I don’t know how you’ve managed to sleep on this horrible chair thing for the past week!”

“I told you that you could go if you were uncomfortable,” Brian grumbled.

“No, no, dear, I was fine for one night,” Freddie replied as he stood up and stretched his muscles. I had a feeling that it had been a very long night for both of them. “If you don’t mind, I think I would like to go home and get some rest though.”

“Be my guest,” Brian said.

“Well, let me take a look at you,” Freddie said as he walked over to me and gently grabbed me by both shoulders. He looked me up and down and proclaimed, “Yes, you do look a little better… And cleaner. I’m glad you got some rest and a shower. You still look thin though, darling. Make sure you eat.”

“I will,” I smiled. 

“All right, well, I’m off then dears,” Freddie announced. He kissed me on the cheek and added, “Take care of my guitarist. I can’t afford to lose him.”

I laughed and assured him that I would. We all said our goodbyes, and Freddie happily left to go home and sleep.

“Didn’t he need you to give him a ride?” I asked Roger.

“He’ll probably just take a cab,” Roger shrugged.

I nodded and set my duffle bag in Freddie’s vacated chair, then turned my attention toward Brian.

“Hey you,” I said. “How are you doing today?”

“Better than I was yesterday,” Brian answered with a soft smile. He looked down at what I was wearing and said, “Ah, I like your shirt. A fan of Queen, are you?”

“Yeah, they’re pretty good,” I teased. “Their guitarist sent me this when I was in the States, so I thought I might as well wear it.”

“He sounds like a very generous fellow,” Brian grinned.

“Yeah, well, you know, I’m kind of engaged to the guy now, so I think I’ll keep him around,” I said, before leaning over to give Brian a kiss.

“Speaking of shirts…” Brian went on, turning his attention toward Roger. “Isn’t that my shirt?”

“Oh, yeah, hope you don’t mind, but I borrowed it from you,” Roger replied a little sheepishly.

“Why did you need to borrow my shirt?” Brian asked.

Before Roger could answer, I thought I’d better be the one to explain. There was no knowing what might come out of Roger’s mouth, and I didn’t need Brian to get any strange ideas.

“Roger slept on the couch last night,” I quickly said, giving Roger a look that clearly told him to keep his mouth shut about climbing into bed with me. “He wanted something clean to wear this morning and asked if he could borrow one of your shirts. I didn’t think you’d mind too much, you know, since you guys are always swapping clothes like little girls anyway.”

“Only our stage clothes because there’s so few of them to go around, thank you very much,” Brian corrected me playfully. He turned back to Roger and said, “I didn’t know you were going to spend the night at our place last night.”

Roger held up a hand pleading his innocence as he explained, “Only because I knew that if I didn’t, Carrie would be out in the middle of the night trying to get back to you here at the hospital. You know how she is. She never stops worrying about you. So I thought I’d stick around and make sure she got some rest.”

“Ah, well, thanks for keeping an eye on her for me, Rog,” Brian said, though I could tell by the look on his face that he had his doubts about the whole situation.

“Well, if the two of you don’t need me, then I’m going to head home,” Roger said at last. He held up the shopping bags that he’d brought in for me and added, “What should I do with these?”

“Oh, sorry, let me take those from you,” I said, closing the distance between us to take the bookshop and art supply bags, setting them on top of my duffle bag in the chair. I turned back to Roger and said, “Thanks for everything, Rog. I appreciate you taking me home to get some sleep last night.”

“Don’t mention it,” Roger replied, waving my concern aside. “If you need to go home for anything, don’t hesitate to ask. I know you’re kind of stuck here, and I’m happy to help.”

“I am going to have to do some laundry one of these days,” I said. “So I may take you up on that.”

“Anytime,” Roger said sincerely. “All right, well, I’m off then. Both of you get some rest, and I’ll be back soon, okay?”

“Cheers! See ya soon, Rog,” Brian said.

“Thanks again for everything,” I added.

Roger gave us a quick wave, and he was gone.

“Bloody hell am I glad to have you back,” Brian sighed as he reached for my hand.

“Long night with Freddie?” I asked, sitting down on the edge of his bed.

“He literally would not stop bitching and moaning about that damn chair all night,” Brian said. “Is sleeping on that thing really as bad as all that?”

“Honestly, yeah,” I laughed. “But what other choice do I have? It’s either that or going home and leaving you every night, and I’m not about to do that.”

Brian took a deep breath and let out a sigh as he squeezed my hand affectionately. “I am so sorry…” he began. “I’ve been taking you for granted this whole week, not even realizing what you’ve been going through, and, I’m just _so_ sorry. You’ve stayed by my side, nursing me back to health when you didn’t have to, and I’ve had no appreciation for your being here.”

“Sweetie, you know damn well that there is no place else that I would rather be,” I smiled.

“I know,” Brian replied, giving me a heartfelt look. “And I just want you to know how much it means to me that you’re here. I was feeling sorry for myself yesterday, and I took it out on you, and I feel awful now. I was so blinded by my own suffering that I couldn’t even see what I was putting you through.”

“Look, I don’t want you to worry about it, okay?” I said, taking both of his hands in mine and giving them a light squeeze. “I’m going to be your wife soon, and we’re going to be taking vows promising to be there for each other through sickness and health, remember? This is just what a person does when they love someone.”

“You don’t know how much your love means to me,” Brian sighed. “I’m so sorry I’ve been taking you for granted.”

“Honey, it’s okay, all’s forgiven. You haven’t exactly been feeling like your usual self lately,” I smiled, reaching up to brush a curl back from his forehead. “I have no doubt that I’d be feeling sorry for myself too if I was stuck in this stupid bed day after day. Which reminds me, I brought you a few things to keep your mind occupied while you have to stay here in the hospital.”

I reached over to the chair and hoisted up the shopping bags, setting them gently on Brian’s lap.

“What’s all this?” Brian grinned, his eyes lighting up like a kid with presents on Christmas morning.

“This is why it took me so long to get back to the hospital this morning,” I said. “I stopped by a bookstore and an art supply shop to pick up a few things for you.”

Brian reached into the bag from Dillon’s Books first and pulled out one of my Georgette Heyer books.

“Oh, a romance novel… Just what I wanted!” Brian teased, his eyes sparkling mischievously.

“Sorry!” I laughed. “That one’s for me…”

I reached into the bag and pulled out the other Georgette Heyer novel as well.

“So is this one,” I added. “The rest are all yours.”

Brian looked over each of the books and proclaimed that I’d gotten him some interesting titles. The Arthur C. Clarke novel, in particular, he said looked very promising. The art supplies were a real surprise, since painting wasn’t a usual hobby of his. I told him, though, that I thought he could set up the paints and tablet right on his little bedside table without much fuss or mess and let out his creativity, since playing music wasn’t much of an option at that particular moment.

“I love all of it,” Brian smiled. “As usual, you’ve gone to too much trouble for me.”

“Oh stop,” I scolded. “It wasn’t too much trouble at all. And besides, I did it as much for me as I did for you. You’ll be happier if you can stay busy, and a happy Brian means a happy Carrie.”

“True,” Brian laughed, then instantly clutched at his stomach, wincing in pain.

“Sorry,” I grimaced, reaching out to gently lay a hand over his incision. “I know, I know, don’t make you laugh…”

“Good afternoon, Mr. May,” one of the nurses said cheerfully as she entered the room with a tray. “Time for lunch.”

I gathered up all of the gifts I’d given Brian and put them back in their respective bags, setting them aside for the time being so that he could eat. Brian sat up a little straighter as the nurse set his lunch on the bedside table and wheeled it in front of him.

“There you are,” she said. “And just so you know, I’ll be coming in after you’re finished to give you a bed bath, okay?”

Brian nodded his agreement, and I quirked an eyebrow at the nurse’s retreating form as she left the room.

“Bed bath, huh?” I asked skeptically.

“Don’t worry, she’s not one of the nurses that I fancy,” Brian teased.

“Oh! So there _are_ nurses that you fancy, huh?” I exclaimed.

Brian winced with pain as he looked at me and laughed.

“Ha! Now I’m glad you laughed, you deserved that one,” I said, glaring at him through narrowed eyes. “Also, I suggest you point out to me which nurses you _do_ fancy so that I can make sure that no bed baths will be given by _any_ of them!”

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

The following weeks in the hospital seemed to be a strange combination of both boredom and chaos. I stayed with Brian as much as I could, but it was inevitable that I would eventually have to leave his side from time to time and get a few things done once he started feeling a little better. Thanks to Roger, I was able to get out and get that pesky laundry done, as well as go home every few days to shower and get a good night’s sleep. Unlike the first time that Roger had taken me home, however, I’d decided to put my foot down and tell him emphatically that there was to be no more flirting or funny business. I threatened to tell Sam about his behavior if he didn’t toe the line, and now that she was back in London, that seemed to do the trick.

Most of the chaos in my life, however, came from having to alter wedding plans. Ruth was completely indispensible to me, and had called the bed & breakfast and the pub on my behalf to explain the situation and why we needed to change the date of the wedding. It was nothing short of a miracle that October 5th was available at both locations. Once that was settled, she called the florist, party rental shop and tuxedo shop to change the dates with them, and then went to the printers as promised to get the change of date cards made. I, meanwhile, had to call my mom and let her know that Brian was in the hospital and that our wedding plans for America had to be changed. Between both weddings, I spent much of my time either talking with Ruth about plans for the English wedding, or on the phone with my mom about alterations to our American wedding, or filling out change of date cards to send out to every single person that we’d sent an invitation to. At least, I suppose, it gave me something to occupy my time, rather than just staring at the stark white walls of Brian’s hospital room all day.

Brian, I was thrilled to see, progressively got a little better everyday. He painted a few watercolor paintings, and read, and the two of us played his Magnavox Odyssey endlessly. And, perhaps most importantly, I was happy to see that his mindset, for the most part, was staying positive. 

After about two weeks spent in his hospital bed, the doctors and nurses began working with him to get him back up on his feet again. I hadn’t realized when he’d first gone in for surgery what a long and arduous process it would be just for him to be able to walk again. He had to have physical therapy everyday to rebuild his strength, and slowly but surely, I saw him getting back to his old self.

Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, the doctors announced that Brian would be going home on September 6th. I hadn’t seen Brian so happy in ages. Suddenly he was smiling and laughing again, and more than ready to get back home and back to a normal life once more. I went out the day before his release and stocked the flat with food so that all would be ready for his homecoming, and picked out some comfortable clothes from his dresser to take back to the hospital so he’d have something to wear home.

It almost seemed too good to be true when Brian finally signed his release papers and changed out of his depressing hospital gown into the pajama bottoms and t-shirt that I’d brought him from home. Harold and Ruth had come by to give us a lift, and I felt as though the weight of the world was being lifted off of my shoulders as one of the hospital orderlies came to Brian’s room to get him settled into a wheelchair, then wheeled him through the hospital and out to the waiting car.

Brian gingerly stood up from the wheelchair, with the assistance of his dad and the hospital orderly, but before he climbed into the backseat of his parent’s car, he said, “Just give me one second…”

He turned his face upwards toward the sun for a moment and took a deep breath of fresh air.

“This is the first time I’ve been outside in a month,” he sighed. “I’d almost forgotten what a warm, sunny day felt like.”

His dad gave him a sympathetic pat on the back, then slowly and carefully helped him get into the car.

Getting up the stairs once we got home was a bit of a challenge, but Brian’s dad and I flanked Brian on either side, and slowly helped him up, one step at a time. I unlocked the front door, pushing it open wide, and I could tell that Brian was having a hard time keeping his emotions in check, as all the comforts of home washed over him.

“I was starting to wonder if I’d ever see this place again,” Brian said with a watery smile, as I leaned in to give him a hug.

“Welcome home, sweetheart,” I said, rubbing a hand lovingly over his back.

“It’s good to be home,” Brian smiled.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

The two of us spent the next week or so trying to get back to a sense of normalcy. Brian spent much of the time resting and recuperating from his surgery while I played nursemaid, fetching him his tea and food and anything else he needed. We did spend a little time outside puttering around in the garden though, and went for short walks in the evenings so that Brian could get his strength and color back.

It wasn’t long, however, before the demands of rock stardom came to the forefront of our lives once again.

Brian received a phone call from Trident only about a week after we’d gotten back home, and was told that sales for _Queen II_ had officially topped 100,000 copies! This was exciting news in and of itself, but Brian was also informed that a special event was going to be held in the band’s honor at the famous Café Royal near Piccadilly Circus, where Queen would be presented with silver discs! It was going to be a huge press event with fancy food and flowing champagne and even a woman impersonating Queen Elizabeth II to make a speech and hand the guys their discs. I was nervous about attending an event at such an upscale venue, but Brian was excited about making a public appearance as a member of Queen once again.

I knew that I needed something nice to wear to such an important event, and splurged a little by taking at trip to Selfridge’s to buy a new dress. I found something that was very pretty and feminine with long puffed sleeves and a gathered bodice in a seafoam green color, and decided that it was perfect. Brian already had a white three-piece suit that he’d picked up for the _Queen II_ photo sessions with Mick Rock while I’d been in the States, so thankfully he was all set.

We were both extremely nervous on the day of the event and took ages to get ready. Queen had never had such a large publicity event held in their honor, and neither of us was entirely sure of what to expect. Brian looked very handsome in his suit and tie, though perhaps still a little thinner and paler than usual, and once I had my hair and makeup all done, I didn’t think I looked too bad either.

Trident sent a couple of cars around to pick everyone up and deliver them to the event, since, apparently it would be unseemly for Brian and I to arrive in a green mid-60s Mini with a slight dent in the bumper. We were the last to be picked up by our driver, it seemed, because when the car arrived, Roger and Sam were already comfortably ensconced in the back.

“Room for two more?” Brian teased, popping his head inside the car as the driver walked around and opened the door for us.

“Of course, my good man!” Roger grinned, gesturing with his hand to the bench seat across from him. “I believe there may even be room for your old lady as well.”

Brian handed me into the car first, and I glared at Roger through narrowed eyes as I took the seat opposite from him.

“Don’t start!” I warned, and Roger just laughed, his eyes glinting mischievously.

He and Sam were decked out in shades of red, with Roger wearing a black and red velvet jacket and Sam wearing a gorgeous flowing red dress.

“Your dress is so pretty!” Sam exclaimed as I sat down. “I love the color! Is it new?”

“It is!” I replied. “I thought I’d better wear something nice to this thing so that I won’t embarrass anyone.”

“As if you could possibly embarrass anyone,” Brian said, reaching for my hand as he settled in next to me.

We spent most of the drive with Sam and I complimenting each other on how pretty we thought the other looked, and before we knew it, we were pulling up in front of the Café Royal, with it’s dark wooden façade and revolving door. A man from the restaurant was waiting to open the car door for us, and soon another man from Trident was rushing up to the four of us to whisk us inside.

We were led to a large, posh room with brightly patterned carpet and cream-colored walls with golden trim, and there seemed to be people milling around practically everywhere we looked. Freddie and John were already there talking to what appeared to be record executives, and I instantly spotted the woman named Jeanette Charles, who was a dead ringer for the real Queen Elizabeth II, standing off to the side of the room in her fussy little beige dress and hat. Photographers were already busily snapping pictures of the guys, and soon a woman from Trident was escorting Sam and I over to a table where Mary and Veronica were already seated, so that we’d be out of the way.

The whole event was somewhat strange I had to admit. The Queen Elizabeth impersonator stood in front of the entire crowd and gave a very royal-sounding speech, then called all four guys over and presented them with their silver discs. I watched as photographers snapped what seemed like an endless series of photos before the guys were bombarded with questions from reporters working for music papers and magazines. It all felt so surreal to me, like I was watching newsreel footage of some random celebrity at a big function having a huge fuss made over them, only the celebrity in this case happened to be my fiancé and his band mates. I couldn’t help but laugh a little as I sat thinking to myself, _“Don’t these people know that they’re just four regular guys from London??”_ But then I had to remind myself that they weren’t just regular guys anymore. The days of running stalls in Kensington Market and playing to tiny crowds at local college gigs were a thing of the past. To the rest of the world they were Queen now, the rock band who played _Seven Seas of Rhye_ on _Top of The Pops,_ and I was going to have to get used to this new life of notoriety.


End file.
